


Old Flame

by CrowJane



Series: Playing with Fire [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:02:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 38,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21822610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowJane/pseuds/CrowJane
Summary: When a shadow from Steve’s past comes looking for him, Natasha is also confronted with her own memories.  She had considered her lost love to be dead, but suddenly she found him standing before her... and he had no idea who she was.AU, branching off the cinematic universe right around  “Captain America: Winter Soldier”. I’ll be adding bits and pieces from the comics as well just for funsies.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Series: Playing with Fire [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067645
Comments: 44
Kudos: 225





	1. Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! This has been rolling around in my head for a while. Black widow and the Winter Soldier are one of my favorite pairings, even if the movies completely left it out. I still put this in the MCU category, but I’m certainly not going to limit myself there.
> 
> This is going to have lots of character in it, so tags will be edited as we go. Also, I’m typically very slow to update these things, but I’ll always finish what I start.

“So who am I looking for?” 

Though he didn’t bother to look at her, Natasha didn’t miss the lines of frustration that crossed Steve’s forehead at her question.

“I’ve told you everything he said. I have no idea who or what we’re looking for,” the man at her side replied, his voice lower than necessary. Sure, it was important to keep a low profile, but no one else in the large room had given any indication that they had been spotted. 

Tucking a strand of red hair into her raised hood, Natasha eyed the exhibit before her, pretending to read the great sea of writing on the plaque. “So mystery voice calls you up and tells you to meet him here.”

Steve nodded, risking a glance behind him. 

“Here,” Natasha repeated, “at the Smithsonian. At your own exhibit.”

“Would you keep your voice down please?” the man known as Captain America replied, tugging the brim of his baseball cap lower. 

Nat shrugged. “Sometimes whispers attract more attention than regular conversation,” she replied, her voice taking on a teasing tone. She was enjoying herself. “What’s wrong? Afraid one of your adoring fans will recognize you and ask for a selfie?”

The glare Steve gave her spoke for itself. 

“Fine,” she relented,her voice slightly quieter than before. “What did he sound like?” 

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Sound like?”

“Sure. Young? Old? Accent?” 

Her friend looked frustrated. “I don’t know. Adult male. Young enough to not sound old. No accent.”

“You mean ‘American accent’,” Nat teased. She moved to the next photo on display, taking the opportunity to quickly case the room again. “Did he sound calm?”

Steve paused, and she could almost see his mind working, playing through the conversation again in his head. “No, not really. Not relaxed, at least. He sounded nervous.” 

“Okay,” Natasha mused aloud. “So we’re looking for an adult male, American, not too young and not too old, who’s stressed out. Easy.”

She watched the man as his clear, blue eyes roamed over the room again. “Sure. Easy.”

After several long minutes of silence, Natasha pointed to a newspaper article in a frame. “I didn’t know you were an entertainer.” 

“Yeah, more an exhibit than a soldier for a while,” her friend replied passively, his mind divided between speaking and searching without trying to draw attention to either. “I did the whole ‘buy war bonds’ tour and entertained troops. It was while…”

Steve trailed off and suddenly turned to face her. “Wait. Have you never been here before?”

Surprised by the question, Natasha blinked. “No. Why?”

“Seriously?” Steve looked genuinely surprised and even a little hurt. “I just… thought you would have checked it out.”

Nat resisted the urge to chuckle. “I know the actual Captain America. In real life. Why would I come to a museum about you?”

“I don’t know,” her friend mumbled, turning his eyes toward the ground. 

Oh Steve. Sweet, pure, gentle Steve. If only the plaques and photos in the exhibit could convey just what a soft heart the super soldier had. He could even make the Black Widow feel a stab of guilt. “Alright,” she conceded, placing a hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it meant so much to you. Maybe when this is all over you can give me a personal tour. Tell me your life story.”

He brightened at that. “Sure, that sounds good.” 

They fell back into silence as both heroes turned their eyes to the article on the wall before them. 

“You know, I went to see the unveiling of your statue in New York.”

“Steve!” Nat whispered sharply. “I said I was sorry!”

When he turned to her, Captain America was smiling and his eyes flashed with mischief. “Don’t be mad that I’m a better friend.” 

It was all she could do to resist giving him a playful shove. “It’s a statue of all of us. And Tony said we all _had_ to be at that media circus. You didn’t do it out of your own benevolence.”

“Alright, fine.” Steve put his hands in his pockets and turned to watch the rest of the room, but even in his vigilance Nat could see that he was more relaxed. The lines of stress had gone from his face and his shoulders had lost their tension. Good. 

“I could use a coffee. You?” 

Natasha nodded. She let her friend wander off to a nearby concessions cart while she turned her eyes back to the artifacts. Before her was a bust of Howard Stark and a life-sized model of Cap’s shield, obviously made out of some more common metal than vibranium. It definitely didn’t seem to have the same sheen to it as the real thing, but the detail was fairly impressive. She was about to turn from the model when something caught her eye.

There was movement in the shadows, just behind a display wall. Natasha paused, green eyes squinting, trying to focus in the poor light. The thing moved again, slowly, stuttering, and she could see its hesitancy even before getting a full view of the figure. When he did step partially into the light, she felt her heart stop.

It was a man, tall, strong, with a similar build to Steve’s trim and muscular form. That was where the similarities ended, though. The man standing before her had dark, unkempt hair that hung about his chin. A few days worth or growth in his beard and a dark cap tugged down over his eyes kept most of his face obscured. But Natasha caught a flash of his eyes, and that was all she needed to know exactly who was standing before her. 

Those eyes. She saw the familiar, passionate heat in them that always smouldered behind the icy blue. Eyes she saw in her dreams, and in her nightmares. In her imagination when alone in the dark of night. In her most favorite memories. 

“James.” His name came out as a breath before she was able to catch herself. 

His eyes flickered toward her for the briefest of moments, but no recognition crossed over his features. Instead of the expression of brutal determination that she remembered so well, his face wore a look of barely controlled panic. He looked like a cornered animal, ready to dart away if the situation turned dangerous.

Over her shoulder, Natasha heard Steve’s gasp. “Bucky?” 

Steve stepped forward, shoving two cups of coffee into her numb hands as he passed. But his movements were much too fast for the man before them. Fear flashed in his eyes, and the man held up a gloved hand to stop the captain in his tracks.

“Look, I don’t know you,” the man said, keeping his hand out as if to make a barrier between himself and Steve. “But I saw you on tv. There was an interview, and you were talking about your friend. They showed a picture, and it was me.”

He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. His eyes were searching Steve’s face, silently pleading. Desperate. 

Natasha also felt desperate. Helpless. She was trapped as an observer in an impossible situation. Her best friend confronted with a ghost from his past turned out to be the same man who had been haunting her for years.

James, or as Steve called him, Bucky, continued his hurried, patchy story. “Hydra wiped my memories. I don’t remember you. I don’t really even know myself.” His quiet, cold voice cracked. “I escaped, but I need help. I thought… my only plan was to find you.”


	2. History and Honesty

It turned out to be a hell of a long day. 

Predictably, Steve has jumped at the chance to help his long lost friend. The atmosphere in their jet was a buzzing mixture of excitement, tension, fear and hope as they quickly made their way back to the Avengers tower. Once arrived, Tony Stark had joined in an interrogation of their guest, his attitude a bit less optimistic than Steve’s. Barnes insisted he didn’t know much; he only had a few month's worth of memories. But he stuck to his story. He was on a mission for Hydra and caught sight of Captain America on television. Cap had spoken of his army days, how he came to be what he was today, and an old photo of James “Bucky” Barnes flashed on the screen. A man without a life of his own suddenly realized he had a past, a friend, and a name. He had immediately gone AWOL, researching Steve Rogers while in hiding for weeks before getting up the nerve to call him. 

It was a tremendous story. One Natasha felt strangely disassociated from. She hung outside the room during the interrogation, listening in, doing her best to keep her mind in the present instead of the past. She didn’t know Bucky Barnes. But she knew the ragged, tired, frightened man who sat before them. Intimately. She knew his hands, still gloved and folded together on the table before him, moving slightly as if he was resisting the urge to wring them in desperation. She remembered the skin of one being warm, the callouses on his palm rough as they brushed her cheek. The other, the one Hydra had given him, was smooth and cool, incredibly strong but controlled so as not to leave so much as a bruise as he gripped her hip. She knew his lips, now turned downward in a frown as he repeated himself yet again, and she knew the way they caused a shiver up her spine when he pressed them to the side of her neck. She watched as James shifted in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, where she knew the skin under his shirt was crisscrossed with scars. And she knew that his eyes, now cautious and guarded, could nearly glow in the darkness of a bedroom. 

Hours passed, and finally Barnes was shown to a private room with instructions to get some rest. Natasha, Steve and Tony joined the rest of the Avengers in a conference room. They all looked curious and bright-eyed, while she simply hoped she didn’t look as drained as she felt.

Tony produced a decanter of whiskey and glasses, signaling the start of a meeting. Nat groaned inwardly. This long day was turning into a long night. 

“Alright,” Tony said after taking a swallow of booze. “Who wants to start the debate about what the hell we do with this guy?”

It was Steve who spoke first, of course. And he was clearly and openly optimistic, of course. Bucky has a good heart, he just had to find himself again, he insisted. 

Tony was skeptical. Of course. Rhodey took Tony’s side. Of course. Sam and Clint had concerns. Bruce was talking psychology and neuroscience while also making a point to mention that neither psychology nor neuroscience were his strong suits. And Thor nearly finished a decanter of whiskey on his own. Natasha remained silent as the men around her debated the believability of Barnes’ claims. Was he really trying to escape, or was this a mission from Hydra to infiltrate them? How much control over him did the Russians have, even if he was truly was trying to break free?

She tried to sort through her own memories; a difficult task while also pretending to be following everyone else’s conversations. Natasha knew James was used more for muscle than for mind. He was a soldier, not a spy, all brawn and force and following orders. She didn’t buy the theory that Hydra was using him to infiltrate and destroy the Avengers. As far as trying to escape Hydra, that had been a surprise. Like herself, James had never been content to live his life as a tool for a shadowy organization. But freedom had been something so tantalizing and terrifying that even Natasha had spent years dreaming of escape before actually taking the plunge. When one lives under another’s control for as long as she had, and as long as James had, the unknown where to go or what to do with oneself is paralyzing. It must have taken a lot of courage for him to-

“So we sleep on it then?” 

Nat’s head snapped up to find Tony rising from his perch on the table. “I mean, we’re not making any headway here. Might as well mull it over and revisit this tomorrow. Maybe our guest will spontaneously produce a few more memories in the morning.”

Thank goodness. Natasha rose slowly from her seat, letting a few of the others exit the room in an attempt to not look like she was making a bolt for the door. 

“Nat,” Steve said suddenly, snapping her out of her thoughts and stopping her in her tracks. She looked back to find him watching her intently, big arms folded across his chest. 

There was a soft _click_ of the door as the last of the other Avengers made their way out of the room, leaving her trapped and alone with Captain America. 

Natasha’s stomach began to churn, but she kept her expression neutral. She cocked her head to the side, waiting for whatever it was he wanted to say. She certainly wasn’t going to offer anything freely. 

There was a moment of excruciating silence before Steve finally gave in. “You knew his name,” he said simply.

Oh. So he had heard that.

“We were in a museum, in a room dedicated to your war days,” Natasha replied, waving her hand dismissively. “And you’ve talked before about your old friend.”

Steve leaned forward, palms pressed flat on the table across from her, his eyes never leaving hers. “I never called him ‘James’,” he replied. 

Oh.

Well, that was that. She was trapped. There was no escaping the past now. In her shock at seeing Jame’s face, she had revealed a single word that would lead to her emotional demise. And Steve didn’t look like he was going to show her any mercy.

She took a few slow steps towards him, her fingers following the curve of the table as she moved, buying a few seconds while she formulated exactly what and how much she would tell him. Steve was her friend and teammate, and she had to admit he deserved the truth. But after years of keeping secrets so close to her heart, it was very difficult to release them. 

“Hydra worked closely with those of us at the Red Room. We had a lot of the same goals. Sometimes there were joint missions. Sometimes the Winter Soldier would be paired with a Widow. Sometimes, it was me. He was powerful, strong, and brutal, while I was trained to infiltrate quietly. Our opposite strengths made us a nearly unstoppable team.”

She paused, remembering walking by the Winter Soldier’s side, the smell of blood and gun smoke in the air, the feeling of being small and delicate next to such a big and powerful man. A surge of heat pulsed through her body. It took a few seconds for Nat to control her emotions before she continued. 

“What he told you today was true. They mind-wiped him often, and he didn’t know his identity at all. Not his nationality, not his friends, not even his name. But he and I were on a mission once, invading a British research lab when he saw a nameplate on the door. It read Dr. James Hammond. He stopped and read it over and over again.” Natasha’s gaze drifted to one of the blank walls of the room, her mind’s eye seeing the way the tightness around his mouth had softened, the way his ice blue eyes had trailed over the brass plate, the way his right hand, his _real_ hand, had come up to trace the engraving. 

Natasha continued, her voice growing more quiet. “He said the first name felt familiar. So, when we were alone, away from Hydra's constant surveillance, I started calling him James.”

She drew her lower lip between her teeth, suppressing a shiver as she remembered the way he had rocked into her the first time she used his name. “He… liked that.” 

“Were you two… intimate?” Steve asked, a rosy blush touching his cheeks. 

Natasha smiled and turned to face him again. Sweet, innocent, old fashioned Steve. “When working with a partner, part of my duties were to reward him for a completed mission. It was expected.”

She didn’t miss the way his body went stiff at that statement. “Are you saying he-”

“No,” she corrected him quickly. “On the contrary, James was the only one I ever _wanted_ to be with. He never simply used me. He cared how and what I felt. He made me feel valued. With him it was like… making love.”

She tossed her red hair behind her shoulders and let her eyes slip shut, tilting her face up toward the ceiling. A melancholy smile painted her lips at the memories, and Nat didn’t try to suppress it. She let the words keep spilling out like a teenager telling her friends about her crush. “We fell for each other. Even outside missions, he used to sneak into my room at night. It was stupid. Dangerous. But we couldn’t stop.”

She heard the shuffle of Steve’s feet as he shifted his weight, considering. “You two were caught,” he said, more of a statement than a question. 

Natasha met his eyes again, her smile fading. “They found out. Of course. We both knew they eventually would. James was wiped again and just like that, he didn’t even recognize me. It was shortly after that I defected.”

She didn’t tell him that they had made her watch. That she had heard him screaming and watched the light fade from his eyes. That they hadn’t even allowed her to mourn his loss before throwing her back into the field. 

She sniffed, realizing that her emotions were slipping from her tight grip with every admission. But there was something addicting about finally being able to reveal these secrets, and now that they were spilling out, she didn’t want to stop them. “I went back for him once. Word got around the intelligence community that he was chasing a target, a nuclear engineer from Iran. I caught up with them near Odessa. I needed a quick way to get his attention, so I stood between him and his target and tried to reason with him, tried to make him remember who I was and what we had.”

Her voice was cracking, and her friend was beginning to look alarmed. She was always collected. Always carefully put together. Always in control of herself, both physically and mentally. For her to show this much emotion must have been terrifying. A thought flitted through the back of her mind that Steve’s expression would have been somewhat amusing, had she not felt such despair. 

Her eyes stung with tears, but she pushed forward. “He couldn’t remember. Couldn’t even comprehend what I was telling him. He just saw me covering his target and did his job. He shot him. Through me. And then he just left us both there to die.”

Her hand moved to cover the scar that was beneath her shirt. “Bye bye bikinis,” she said, attempting to use a joke to pull her feelings out of the dark pit she had fallen into. But another tear slipped away, and she felt the dam inside of her burst. 

Steve moved quickly, closing the distance between them to hold her tightly against his chest. He stroked her hair gently, whispering her name while she sobbed. Nat was glad for his solid, strong body to lean on and his big arms to hold her up, for she felt like she suddenly had no energy left to support herself. Seconds, then minutes ticked by, and her friend continued to hold her, steadfast and patient as he always was. Opening herself to someone else had been something Natasha had to train herself to do after the Red Room, and the vulnerability that came along with it was still terrifying at times. But in that moment, Natasha was incredibly glad she had a friend like Steve. 

As a thunderstorm subsides to gentle rain, Nat’s sobs eventually weakened into a few sniffles. Still, Steve waited until she pulled away first before loosening his arms around her. Her eyes burned and her face felt wet, and Natasha knew she must look a mess. Letting someone see her in such a physical state felt foreign and more than a little embarrassing. She let out a nervous chuckle. 

“Thanks,” she said, feeling suddenly very unsure of herself. 

Steve nodded, watching her carefully as if she was going to crack and shatter again any second. She squared her shoulders and shook her hair back in response, trying to look even a little stronger than she felt. “I’ll be okay, Steve.”

His eyes turned downward, and Nat noticed the lines of worry that creased his forehead. Worry for her. Worry for his long lost friend. Probably worry for himself, too. Like her, he was emotionally invested in this weird mess of a situation. Did he feel like he was falling apart, too? 

“We should get some rest,” he said, his voice sounding as strained and fatigued as she felt. “I think tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

Yeah. It probably was. The night was over, but this puzzle of theirs wasn’t anywhere close to being finished. 

“Steve,” she began with a sudden stab of panic. Captain America’s eyes snapped back to meet hers and she didn’t try to hide the concern in her expression. “Please don’t tell him.”

There was a pause, deep and awkward. “Why?” he finally asked. 

“Because his mind has enough to sort out right now,” Nat replied. It was a weak excuse, and she could see by her friend’s deep frown that he saw through it instantly. Fine. 

“Because I’m afraid of his reaction.”

Steve opened his mouth to respond, and Natasha braced herself for a lecture about honesty. But whatever he was going to say evaporated into a deep sigh. Nat also let out the breath that she had been holding. 

“Alright,” Steve said, “I won’t tell anyone. But this isn’t just your secret. It’s Bucky’s past too, and it’s not fair to hide it from him. Eventually-”

“Eventually I’ll tell him everything,” Natasha promised. 

That seemed to satisfy him, and she decided to finally slip off to bed. After a gentle squeeze of thanks to Steve’s hand, she made her way toward the door. 

“Nat,” his voice called her back again. Now what?

Natasha turned to see Steve watching her with a small smile. “If you would have just gone to my exhibit at the museum, we could have figured this out a long time ago.” 

She snorted a laugh. “You’re right again, Cap.”


	3. Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ll use _italics_ when characters are speaking in Russian throughout this story, but I’ll try to throw in a reminder whenever I do.

It was Wednesday.

Natasha took one last look in the mirror, taking a moment to pin back a lock of red hair that hung near her face. Months ago, Tony Stark has decided that the Avengers needed regular bonding time and declared every Wednesday night be reserved for some casual revelry. Provided a mission didn’t interfere, everyone joined together at the Tower for dinner, whether they lived there or not. The choice of food and music rotated between the heroes, and tonight Tony himself had chosen classic rock while Clint set a menu of good, old fashioned, American, grilled steaks. 

But this Wednesday was different. It was six days after James “Bucky” Barnes had stepped into the lives, and about nineteen hours since everyone, including the lofty Nick Fury, had finally accepted his story. If a friend of Captain America needed help, the general consensus seemed to say, then they would help him. And it certainly didn’t hurt that this friend happened to be a super soldier with abilities that may benefit them in later missions. 

Whether their reasons were altruistic or strategic, Natasha was glad for them. Perhaps her fellow Avengers would cease digging into James’ past and the secrets that she had also buried there. Perhaps tonight would be focused on the present, or even the future, she hoped. A clean slate, a fresh start, a new beginning. Tonight, James would be joining them for Wednesday dinner.

The Black Widow wasn’t sure she had ever been more nervous in all of her long life. 

She was one of the first to arrive in the dining room, and helped herself to a cocktail while the others filtered in. Steve and James were the last to arrive, and Natasha felt her breath catch in her throat when she saw them.

James was dressed in a simple long sleeve shirt and jeans, both of darker shades, both fitted enough to show the powerful muscles they covered. His metal hand was tucked into a pocket as if to disguise what it was that made him different from the others. His hair was washed and combed, still hanging loosely around his face in a style that made him look clean and rugged all at once. He had shaved, but a five o’clock shadow had already grown which only served to highlight his strong jawline. Those light blue eyes of his sparkled as they moved to carefully take in the room and everyone in it. He looked about as nervous as Natasha felt inside, but he held his chin up and shoulders squared. 

He looked really good.

Though nearly all of the Avengers had some sort of contact with the former Winter Soldier by now, Steve took advantage of the evening to make a fresh start. He guided his oldest friend around the room, formally introducing him to his allies. Steve’s eyes were light, his grin broad. This was what he had always wanted, all of his friends together. 

The others’ reactions were predictably mixed. Nat didn’t miss the fact that Sam neglected to shake James’ hand or the fact that Tony’s greeting was more clipped and sarcastic than necessary. But just the fact that they were present in the room was something, she supposed. 

When the two men approached her, Natasha found that her mouth had suddenly gone dry. She took a quick sip of her drink to compose herself before turning to face them.

“Natasha Romanoff,” Steve was saying with a gesture of his hand. “Former Russian agent, now a good friend and partner. You won’t meet a man or woman more clever than her.”

“Such flattery,” Nat returned with a wink before focusing her green eyes on the man of the hour. She extended her hand to take his, which felt warm, rough, and so big around hers. 

“James,” she said his name in greeting, purposely choosing the name by which she knew him instead of the nickname by which Steve kept referring to him. She kept her hand clasped with his for longer than necessary, not wanting to break the first physical contact they had in years.

 _”Welcome home, Comrade,”_ Natasha said, switching to her native Russian. 

A hint of amusement flashed in James’ blue eyes and the lines in his face softened ever so slightly. 

Steve looked expectant, glancing from Nat to Bucky and back again. “What did she say?” he finally asked. 

It was James who responded. “She said ‘welcome.” He turned back to lock his eyes with hers again. _”Thank you.”_

“Yeah, okay,” Steve replied, reaching over the bar to grab a pair of beers. “Is dinner ready yet? I’m starving.”

——

The man formerly known as The Winter Soldier found himself alone for the first time that evening, and was incredibly grateful for it. Dinner had been surprisingly satisfying, and the company of others felt awkward yet weirdly welcome, but he also felt the need to sit back and take in the events of the evening. While Steve was engrossed in a lively conversation with Sam Wilson, Bucky had moved away to a seating area and taken his place on a couch.

He tapped his empty beer bottle silently on the arm of the couch, trying to resist the temptation to pick off the label in his unease. He felt out of place. The interrogation upon his arrival had been expected, and he had braced himself to face all manner of tactics the so-called “Avengers” might use to draw information from him. But they had been shockingly civil. They didn’t withhold meals or sleep, didn’t inflict any sort of pain or fear based strategies, and even gave him a warm bed, full stomach, and new clothes. It had both relieved and confused him. Despite the fact that some of the members of the team obviously and openly distrusted him, Bucky had felt more like a guest than a prisoner.

And now this dinner thing? Steve was obviously trying to help Bucky feel like part of the team. Like he was welcome. Like he belonged there. It was… kind. But when one is out of practice in social events, one tends to feel like the odd man out, even with such a warm welcome.

“Care for something a little stronger?” 

A silky smooth, feminine voice drifted to his ears. Bucky didn’t need to turn around to know who it was that had approached him, but he did anyway. Natasha Romanoff stood nearby, holding a glass of crystal clear liquid in each hand, a smile painted on her lips. She had approached silently, without him realizing. He would have to keep a better eye on her in the future.

For now, he gave a short nod and watched as she settled into the chair next to him. His empty bottle was placed on the coffee table and she handed him one of the glasses of vodka, the ice making a tinkling sound as he brought it to his lips. 

It was smooth. Cold. Strong. Familiar. Good choice.

He thanked her and took a moment to size her up. She was petite and pretty, with full lips, stunning red hair and bright green eyes. Steve has said she was clever, and that was no surprise. The Winter Soldier knew about Black Widows. You don’t get to be stupid and survive long at that position. 

She was watching him, too, Bucky realized, probably making similar judgements about himself. 

He took another swallow and leaned against the couch, lifting his arm to lay along the back in a position he hoped conveyed a sense of casual ease. Something about her was tugging at his curiosity. Her posture, her friendly, flirtatious smile, her greeting when they had shaken hands earlier, the way she hadn’t shied from touching his hand. 

“I have a question,” he finally said.

The girl tilted her head to the side in polite interest, but waited for him to speak. 

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

That made her laugh. It was a beautiful, carefree sound that, paired with her smile, made his heart beat a little faster. Natasha’s eyelashes fluttered as she glanced down at her lap, then back up at him. “I didn’t know I was supposed to be,” she answered, a playful tone to her voice.

But Bucky wasn’t interested in playing. He gestured around the room with his hand, his metal hand, and noticed that she didn’t flinch when she saw it. 

“Stark treats me like a time bomb that’s going to go off any second. He’s keeping me at arm’s length. Banner stumbles over his words, as if he doesn’t know how to speak to me. Even Steve, for all his friendliness, is handling me with caution as if I might break apart any minute.”

He turned his eyes back to the woman sitting next to him. “And you’re here, alone, bringing me a drink and inviting conversation. Why aren’t you afraid like everyone else?”

Natasha smiled again, this time it was less flirty and more melancholy. She took a few seconds to find the right words, her emerald eyes flickering downward to her drink before speaking.

“You’re just a person, James,” she said, and he found himself distracted by the way his first name sounded on her lips. “You’re not a time bomb and you’re not made of glass. I have no reason to be afraid of you.”

She held his eyes for a moment longer before turning toward the rest of the room. She gestured with her glass as she continued to speak. “Tony thinks he’s our dad, and that he needs to protect us. You’re like the boyfriend coming to pick up his daughter for the first date. Of course he’s going to be distrustful, but he’ll come around.” She flashed him a secretive smile. “To be honest, I don’t think he trusts me most of the time, either.”

She nodded toward Banner. “Bruce is afraid if his own shadow, so don’t take that personally. But he’s a smart guy, and a good one to have around. I hear he’s been putting out some feelers with a few... experts who might be able to help you.”

Bucky opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but the Black Widow has already moving on. “Sam is the newest guy here, and he’s really made a connection with Steve. I think he thinks you’re going to steal his new friend. And Steve…”

She trailed off, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. “Steve’s heart is bigger than his brain. He talked about you often, with all of us. He really did miss you. He’s excited to have you here, and he just wants everything to be alright.”

Bucky found himself, once again, drawn into her green eyes as they fell into silence again. Black Widows were supposed to be smart, sexy, irresistible, he reminded himself. A siren that could lure any man in. She was damn good at her job. 

Movement caught both of their attention, and the pair simultaneously looked up to see Steve approaching. Bucky didn’t miss the flash of annoyance that crossed over Natasha’s features, but he was secretly relieved. The last thing he needed was to be seduced and used for whatever a Widow wanted. While this woman seemed sincere, and while she spoke so openly and honestly with him, he wasn’t willing to take any chances. 

“I'm not interrupting anything, am I?” Steve asked with a broad smile as he approached. 

Natasha answered with a smile of her own. “That’s alright,” she began,rising from her seat. “We have all the time in the world to get to know each other, don’t we, James?” 

Without waiting for a reply, she was walking away, and Bucky found himself watching the way her hips moved as she left. 

Great. The last thing he needed was a distraction.


	4. Welcome to Wakanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will a longer chapter make up for my lack of updates?

“I hope you’re right about this,” Sam Wilson muttered, half to himself and half to his fellows on the Quinjet. “Or we’re gonna land a lot faster than we want to.”

Natasha swallowed hard, but said nothing, keeping her eyes focused on the mountain that was quickly growing larger in front of them. She ran her hand along the safety restraints that held her securely to the copilot’s seat, mentally chiding herself for taking comfort in a seatbelt that would do little to help her survive a head-on collision. 

“That’s what they said,” Bruce was babbling behind her, sounding more than a little alarmed. “The coordinates go right into the mountain. Do you think it was a mistake?” 

Natasha glanced up at Steve as he stepped forward, resting his arm on the back of her seat. “I would think the Wakandans know how to get into their own country. It can’t be a mistake. Maybe this is a test of our trust.”

A grunt sounded from the seat behind her. “Letting them play around with my brain isn’t showing enough trust?” James asked, the sarcasm in his voice thinly covering his own uncertainty. 

Steve looked pained. “Look, Buck, if you’re not sure about this…”

“No, it’s fine,” James rushed to correct his companion. “It’s worth the risk.”

Doing her best not to turn and steal a glance at the man sitting behind her, Natasha glanced upward at Steve again. “Steady on then?” she asked.

The mountainside was nearly on top of them now, threatening to tear the Quinjet to pieces in mere seconds. 

“Steady on,” Captain America replied. 

With a flicker of light, the jet flew _through_ the mountainside. 

A collective sigh of relief echoed loudly through the jet as Natasha slumped backward in her seat. The mountain had vanished from before them, shimmering into thin air. Instead, the mysterious country of Wakanda stretched out ahead. Though she had just begun breathing again, Nat felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight of it.

Tall buildings of gold and copper rose out of the landscape, proud and exotic as they shimmered in the sun. Some were dotted with lush rooftop gardens, as if they had pulled the jungle around them upward with them. The city had the look of something utopian, impossibly beautiful and completely secret, hidden away among the hills. 

“I can’t believe it,” Bruce said, awe seeping through every word. “I knew Wakanda had to be more advanced than they let on, but this? This is incredible.” 

Nathasha had to admit she felt the same, and the stunned silence that filled the quinjet indicated that she wasn’t the only one. It was a little embarrassing, if she was completely honest with herself. As someone so deeply engrossed in the intelligence community, one whose very job was to know other countries' secrets, she was absolutely amazed that the achievements of Wakanda had completely slipped under her radar. 

She didn’t have much time to kick herself, however, as an accented voice came over their radio to guide them towards a landing place. 

—

“King T’Challa.” Bruce stepped forward, extending his hand in a way that almost made him appear confident. “It’s an honor to meet you in person.”

He turned to introduce the rest of the party, and Natasha took a moment to take in the young king of Wakanda. She had brushed up on the country’s history before their flight, and was familiar with recent news stories of the death of T’Challa’s father. But if this man was nervous about his new leadership role, he didn’t show it. He stood with squared shoulders and alert eyes, nodding to each visitor as Bruce said their names. He walked the line between cold and friendly with ease, self-assured but not aloof. He was impressive.

“Thank you for your willingness to help us,” Steve said, stepping forward. “Wakanda has a reputation for keeping to its own affairs. It’s an honor to even be invited to your country.”

T’Challa clasped his hands behind his back, looking Steve squarely in the eye as he spoke. “It is something of a favor to an old friend,” he replied. 

A young girl standing slightly behind the king surprised them all with a laugh that broke the regal atmosphere of the meeting. “An old _girlfriend_ he means,” the girl said. “He’s doing this to try to impress her.”

Natasha had a hard time hiding the smile of amusement that came to her lips as the king rolled his eyes. “Nakia is an international ambassador for Wakanda,” he corrected, sternly. “She thinks our country should be more involved in worldwide humanitarian efforts.”

He turned slightly, glaring at the younger girl. “She obviously knows more about international relations than the rest of us, and especially more than a princess.” 

“Wait,” Bruce raises his hands, his eyes darting from T’Challa to the girl and back. “ _This_ is Princess Shuri?”

“Yes,” the girl answered before turning her eyes to the rest of the group. She stepped around her brother, making her way straight to James. “And this is the broken white boy I'm supposed to fix?”

Sam snickered, and James looked taken aback. He turned sharply toward Bruce, his blue eyes silently questioning. 

Alarm was visible all over Bruce’s features. “I just… when we spoke on the phone… I expected someone… older.”

Shuri folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes in obvious offense, and Natasha didn’t miss the expressions of concern that were growing on her friends’ faces. The situation needed diffusing before someone said something they shouldn’t. 

“What’s wrong with starting young?” Nat remarked, shrugging her shoulders. She kept her voice casual, waving off Bruce’s concerns as if they were inconsequential. “I did.” 

The princess shot her a smile, and Natasha internally relaxed. Okay, she could get Shuri on her side. 

“You won’t find anyone more capable than her,” T’Challa said, a grumble of annoyance still lingering in his voice. “Even if I hate to admit it.”

“Perhaps if I show you my lab and explain what I plan to do, you’ll feel a little better.” Her words came out like a suggestion, but Shuri was already making her way toward the grand building before them, obviously expecting them all to follow. Though her youthful spirit was obvious in her comments, the princess carried herself with the same regal bearing as her brother. Natasha made a mental note not to let a relationship with Shuri slip away. She, and the rest of Wakanda, could be a powerful ally in the future.

—

The lab was beyond impressive, just like everything else had been since they flew through the mountain. It was loaded with technology, much of it so advanced that Natasha couldn’t even guess its purpose. But it was also elegant, artistic, beautiful in its design. 

Shuri described the procedure that she had planned for James. Though there would be nothing so primitive as a scalpel, it still sounded intensely invasive. Natasha’s own mind struggled to keep up, though she had always been proud of having at least a decent understanding of human physiology. Bruce seemed to be faring better, as he responded with enough questions and awestruck comments to please Shuri. 

Natasha glanced at James several times throughout the discussion, trying to read his thoughts behind those cold eyes. His expression remained controlled, neutral. But his eyes darted to and fro around the lab, settling on each piece of equipment for only a few seconds. His chest was rising and falling more quickly than anyone else’s. And the fingers of his metal hand were curled into a fist. 

It was just like when he had found them in the museum. He was terrified. 

“So, what will he remember?” Steve asked, interrupting Nat’s thoughts. “Everything?”

“Not everything,” Shuri’s reply was abrupt, but Natasha found herself appreciating the girl's honesty. “It will be quite a shock to his emotions to remember everything at once, even if we could do it that way. I suggest we focus on deeper, long term memories to start. They’ll be more ingrained in his mind. And even those will take several sessions to repair.”

“You guys are talking about me like I’m in another room,” James finally said, his voice coming out as something of a snarl. 

Steve and Bruce both flushed, but James pressed on. “How do we know my memories are even still in there? Hydra said they wiped me. What if they’re all just… erased?”

“We don’t know for sure,” Shuri replied, a smile bubbling up on her young features. This research obviously interested her, and the excitement to talk about it was evident in her voice. “But I’ve been looking into it, and I’m confident that nothing’s fully erased.”

She twisted her wrist and tapped the beaded bracelet she wore. A hologram quickly appeared in her hand, but the figure was much more detailed than any hologram Natasha had ever seen. It was opaque, textured, as if someone had built a figure out of sand and painted it to be as lifelike as possible.

“What is this technology?” Bruce gasped, slightly breathless in his excitement. 

The princess gave him a sideways look. “One thing at a time, please,” she replied. “I did some research on this man, who lives in America. Rural New York, I believe.”

The man was gruff looking, with wild dark hair, creases of worry near his eyes, and a stern expression. The figure didn’t look familiar to Natasha, but she was intrigued nonetheless. 

Shuri continued. “He was mind-wiped too, several times over many decades. Sound familiar?”

James blinked. “By Hydra?” 

“No, but the process was similar, as was the intent.” She dropped her hand, and the figure dissipated like dust. “Let me ask you this: when you woke up after the last wipe, could you speak?”

“Yes,” James replied, the corners of his eyes narrowed slightly in confusion.

“You could speak, walk, and fight? You knew who your controllers were and to follow their orders?”

The Winter Soldier shifted his feet. “I don’t see what this has to do with-“

Shuri interrupted. “The man I just showed you couldn’t do any of that. He was like an infant every time they erased him. But his mind still recovered, and some of his memories have returned.”

“Using the process you’ll be using in Bucky?” Steve asked, hope shining through his voice.

“Not exactly,” the princess replied. “But, that man is an enhanced individual. He has a faster rate of healing and more strength than the average person. Just like you.”

Natasha glanced from James to Steve and back again, taking it all in. Sam grunted from the back of their little group. “Must be nice to be a super soldier.” 

Shuri nodded. “Yes! So my theory is that Bucky’s mind can heal itself, and I’ll just give it a little jump start.”

The lab fell into silence as the Avengers contemplated the information they had been given. Nat imagined she could guess what they all were thinking. Sam was obviously skeptical, but was more wary about being in an unfamiliar country than he was about the technology around them. Bruce was dazzled by the young genius’ knowledge and was itching to see her in action. Steve was hopeful. He was always so hopeful. 

James moved to the table where they all assumed the procedure would take place and stared down at it.  
His jaw was clenched, his body too still. He was hesitating. 

“Will it hurt?” 

Shuri quickly turned to face him. Her smile had faded, but a carefree note still carried through her voice. “We’re going into your brain,” she replied, as if that statement alone should have answered any and all questions. 

It didn’t. James’ blue eyes shifted from the table to the girl, waiting. 

“The neurons in your brain don’t have pain receptors like other parts of your body. So no, it won’t hurt. You might get a psychological shock, though. It may be difficult to process too many returning memories at once. That’s why we’re going in stages. But as for the actual feeling?” Shuri paused, considering her next words carefully, then her expression brightened. “It might tickle a little.”

It didn’t seem to reassure him much. He still looked so afraid. 

“Shall we get started?” Shuri asked, and Natasha didn’t miss the way James flinched at her words. 

“Why don’t you get everything ready,” she said, flashing a smile at the princess. She moved to touch James on the arm. “We’re going to get some fresh air.”

He looked confused, but followed as Natasha led him out of the lab and down a magnificent hallway. “Are we allowed to just wander around?” he asked, his eyes shifting to the red-clad guards that dotted the halls as they walked. 

Natasha shrugged. “I’m sure they’ll stop us if not,” she replied, doing her best to sound at ease. In truth, she didn’t know exactly where they were going, just somewhere private. Somewhere bright. And open. Somewhere he wouldn’t feel trapped.

“Ah, perfect,” she said as she found a door that led out to a grand lookout. The two walked out of the palace and into a large platform of sorts that overlooked the rest of Wakanda. “Isn’t this just gorgeous?”

She felt him follow her, felt his eyes on her back as she walked. Nat didn’t stop until she reached the railing at the edge. She leaned her elbows against it, pausing for a moment to let herself take in the incredible view around her. The way the sunlight glittered on the buildings around them, the way the lush forest around them seemed to support the city rather than be subdued by it, the way music and laughter drifted upward in the warm air from the people below. 

James took a place at her side, silent, waiting, his hands clasped behind him, feet shoulder width apart in a military stance that felt so different from her own relaxed posture. 

“You know,” she began, slowly, “I spent a lot of years wishing I could forget my past. The things I did, the people I worked for, the pain I caused. The memories of blood and destruction still keep me up at night, even when I’ve been spending all my time trying to do enough good to cover them up. Sometimes I think a complete mind-wipe might be the only way I would get some peace.”

She turned, meeting James’ clear, blue eyes. He was watching her, calculating every word, every expression, every movement she made, looking for signs of dishonesty. She couldn’t fault him there. She did the same thing whenever anyone else spoke. It was automatic for the both of them. But he wouldn’t find any deceit in her words. 

Natasha continued. “But I think erasing the past only kills all of my victims again. They deserve to be remembered. And… I think the good memories are worth saving, even with all the pain.

“But here you are, James, with the option. You can choose a fresh start or to remember the past. We could leave all this and walk away, and just decide to start over from where we are. Or you can dive into the mystery of all the things that happened before. What do you think?”

He blinked, but held her gaze. “You’re saying I have a choice? After being brought here? After all the work Shuri did?”

That response surprised her. He still wasn’t used to having the freedom to make decisions, even when it came to his own life.

“You have a choice,” Natasha replied, allowing a friendly smile to come to her lips. “Of course you do. This is your mind. Your past and future. Not Steve’s or Shuri’s or…” 

She glanced down. _Or mine,_ she had almost said, but that felt too close to revealing her own memories. Nat shook off the words and met his eyes again. “If you say you don’t want this, we all pack up and head home. And that’s okay.”

James turned to look out at the landscape of Wakanda again. Natasha watched his face carefully, noticing the way the muscles in his jaw twitched, just once, and the way his Adam’s Apple bobbed when he swallowed. 

“Steve keeps talking about what a great friend Bucky was,” he said, slowly. “What a great person he was. Generous, kind, virtuous... I don’t feel any of that. I think that if I can remember what it was like to do good… to _be_ good, maybe I can also be that person again.”

“Shuri did say it was better to start with older memories,” Nat replied with a nod. They fell into silence again as James shifted to rest his arms on the banister. It was a masculine mimic of her own posture, but also served to lower his face closer to hers. While he still maintained a distance that would be considered “proper” by anyone’s standards, Natasha couldn’t help the butterflies that suddenly sprung to life in her stomach when he turned to meet her eyes again. 

“Hydra did a lot of playing around in my mind,” he said, his voice quiet, careful. “Letting someone else do the same thing… giving them that kind of control…”

He trailed off, but Natasha easily picked up where he left off. “It’s scary.”

James nodded, and she found she had no response. “I understand,” was all she could say. The lines around his eyes softened, and Natasha realized those two words had been enough. 

—-

Back in the lab, Shuri was nearly finished preparing for the procedure. Natasha stepped back next to Steve and Sam while James walked forward to the table. The princess instructed him to remove his shirt and went about placing a few sensors on his chest. 

Natasha folded her arms and tore her eyes from the scene, glancing up at the blond man by her side. “How are you doing?”

It took a few long seconds for Steve to pry his eyes from his friend and meet hers. “Okay, I guess,” he said with a small shrug. 

No he wasn’t. Natasha could see it all over her face. He was as worried as she was. 

“I’m nervous as hell,” she admitted. Steve let out a chuckle at that. The two lapsed back into silence as they watched James climb onto the table. Bruce was trying to make himself useful as Shuri’s assistant, but it wasn’t clear whether he was actually being helpful or just getting in the way. 

“So what is Bucky Barnes like?” Natasha asked, suddenly. 

Steve turned back toward her, clearly taken aback by her question. 

“He was a lot of fun. Friendly. Outgoing.” Steve began, thoughtfully. “And a popular guy because of it. I felt more like a sidekick sometimes, tagging along in Bucky’s shadow. But he’s always been there for me, even when I had nothing to offer by my friendship. He made sure I was never alone.” 

A wry smile crossed Steve’s features. “And the dames loved him. You’ll like him too.”

Natasha laughed at that. “I hope so,” she replied. 

\----

The table on his back was cold as he settled onto it, but it was a feeling that James appreciated. The whole situation seemed incredibly surreal, from the majesty of flying into Wakanda to the wonder of Shuri’s lab to the very prospect of regaining some of his memories. It was nice to have the bite of the cold against his skin to remind him that he wasn’t actually dreaming. 

He resisted the urge to fiddle with the sensors against his temple as Shuri moved back to her control panel. “Ready?” she asked, cheerfully. The very word made his heart pound harder. He tilted his head to glance at Steve, who, though his mouth was turned downward in a worried frown, gave a shallow nod. 

James took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay.”

“First we’ll do some calibration,” the princess said. “Think of a recent memory. Like very recent. In the past hour or so. Anything is fine, just whatever comes to mind.”

James closed his eyes. In the past hour? That was easy. He thought of the sunlight on the platform where Natasha had taken him. The way the gold of the buildings around them had been reflected in her green eyes when she turned toward him. The words that had seemed so honest and open when she spoke to-

“Alright, good,” Shuri interrupted. James opened his eyes to see her move some glowing diagram that hovered in the air before her. “How about a little further back? Something in the last week.”

Again, his eyes closed and James searched his recent history. That little get together at the Avengers Tower. The dinner they had and how most everyone was enjoying themselves. They were obviously comfortable together, like a family. Natasha had brought him that drink after. She had been wearing a black dress that made her red hair look so bright against it. She had pressed her lips together when trying to decide exactly what to say. He had told himself that night he wouldn’t be distracted by a pretty face, and yet now, it only slightly bothered him that the memories he was choosing involved her.

“A little farther now.”

The week before had been finding Steve in the museum. He remembered the feeling more than any of the sights around him. He felt panicked. He felt like he was making a mistake. He nearly decided to turn and escape, to trash the idea and run when he realized the girl had spotted him. Natasha was staring at him, her green eyes huge, her mouth parted in a gasp. He furrowed his brow, trying to focus. Had she said his name?

Shuri’s voice again cut into his thoughts. “This is excellent. Now, how far back can you remember?”

He grimaced. He wasn’t sure how long ago it was that he had woken up. Six months? A year? He remembered the words. The handler who had spoken them. That look of cocky satisfaction on the man’s face and the absolute hatred that was running rampant in the Winter Soldier’s veins. The sharp pain in his head that was left over from the procedure. Throbbing. Muscles all throughout his body exhausted, spasms subsiding. The desire to rip apart the chair that held him, the equipment around him, the bodies of the men in the room. 

He barely noticed when Shuri spoke again. “Alright,” she said. “Here we go.”

Then the flood came and he suddenly found himself unable to breath.

\---

On James’ first gasp, Natasha found herself reaching for Steve’s hand. She needed an anchor to keep her in place, to keep her from either running to him or collapsing where she stood. James’ eyes squeezed shut and he groaned, and the sight of him brought back those heartbreaking memories of the time Hydra had taken him from her. 

She wasn’t sure how long the procedure was supposed to last, and didn’t bother to try to track the amount of time it actually took. While Shuri had reassured James that he wouldn’t be in pain, Natasha felt her own heart shatter all over again. She felt the same helplessness, being rooted in place, unable to save or even comfort the man she loved as he shook and suffered. The rational side of her mind reminded her that she wasn’t losing him this time, that she might even get him back. The emotional side, however, was screaming. Natasha felt tears sting her eyes. 

Suddenly, James surged upright, tearing the sensors from his head, causing great protests from Shuri. But he paid her no attention, lost in the world of his own memories. Visibly trembling, he pushed himself to the edge of the table and slumped over, elbows on his knees and face in his hands. His shoulders began to shake, his entire body physically wracked with emotion. 

Natasha panicked, eyes wide with fear, wanting to charge forward, to reach out and hold him. But Steve was the one moving first while she stayed frozen in place, watching. 

Steve leaned down, clasping his friend by the shoulders, repeating his name over and over again. Finally, James leaned back and looked up. His face was wet with tears and sweat, but his mouth was open… and was grinning. 

He wasn’t sobbing, Natasha realized. He was _laughing._

“You…” he began, his eyes focusing on Steve as if seeing him for the first time. “You used to wear newspaper in your shoes.”

Steve laughed in return as tears spilled down his own cheeks, leaning forward to bundle his friend into a great hug. Shuri gave a shout of accomplishment, and Bruce and Sam both looked awestruck. Natasha whispered an excuse but didn’t bother to make sure anyone heard her before quickly walking out of the lab. She found her way back to the lookout, alone, where she finally released her emotions and let her own tears fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be shorter, lighter, and more quickly coming.


	5. Bucky Barnes

James Buchanan Barnes was enjoying an afternoon stroll with his best friend, Steve Rogers. It felt absolutely bizarre and completely natural all at the same time. 

He had already finished his “therapy” for the day, as he and Shuri has begun to call it. She had decided that short sessions over the period of several days would be the healthiest way to recover his past. After the initial shock of the procedure, Bucky felt that the treatment was getting easier each time. He couldn’t remember everything, and maybe he never would. But the blanks about his pre-war past were becoming more and more filled in. 

And he was starting to feel like Bucky Barnes. At least, partially. He was still an odd blend of Bucky and the Winter Soldier. They were two completely different personas, one confident, carefree, fun loving and friendly, the other insecure, anxious, distrusting, and unforgiving. He was starting to realize his recent years as the Winter Soldier weren’t just going to be covered up by the person he used to be. There had to be a balance. He just had to find it. 

But for now, he listened to Steve babble about the good old days while walking through an emerald green field in Wakanda. It was… nice.

“Okay, how about the burger place down by the bridge? Every time we had an extra dollar we were there.”

Bucky laughed. “I remember we took the Miller twins there and they both ordered chocolate malts.”

“And you had to loan me a quarter to pay for them,” Steve replied, sheepishly.

“Hey, I don’t think you ever paid me back for that.”

Steve playfully jabbed him with an elbow. “Sure I did. You just don’t have that memory back yet.”

“Maybe we should have stayed home and married those girls,” Bucky said with a chuckle. “Their dad had a lot of money.”

“Eh,” Steve shrugged. “If I hadn’t gone to war, I wouldn’t have met Peggy.”

Bucky frowned. That name was a blank. In fact, most of the war was still blank, as was everything that came after. He paused in his steps, hands shoved in his pockets, concentrating, willing the memories to come back to him.

His friend stopped abruptly too and turned to face him. “Hey, it’s okay,” Steve said, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. His real shoulder. “We’ll get there.”

With a nod, Bucky mentally shook himself. He was doing well, he knew he was. He had to concentrate on what he had regained rather than focus on what he hadn’t. But it was easy to feel greedy about the past that had been hidden from him for so long. 

He started walking again, eager to change his darker state of mind. “Peggy, huh? You know, if I had to guess, I would have thought you and Natasha were an item. You two seem pretty close.”

That made Steve laugh, and the lighthearted sound was good to hear. “Nah, Nat and I are good friends, that’s all.” He paused, then shot his friend a sideways glance. “I don’t think I’m her type, anyway.”

“What’s her type?” Bucky found himself asking before he thought better of it. 

Steve shrugged. “Not someone as straight laced as me. She seems to have been paying a lot of attention to you, though.”

Bucky scoffed at that. “She’s a Black Widow. She flirts.”

“I’ve seen her flirt. Up close. This ain’t it.”

An awkward silence fell over the two, punctuated by their soft footfalls in the tall grass and Bucky clearing his throat. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Maybe the Bucky Barnes of the 1940s would have known what to say, but the insecure Winter Soldier that hovered in the back of his mind certainly did not.

They created the top of a hill to find a small group of women gathered below. There was no mistaking Natasha, her fiery red hair stood out starkly again at the green background. Bucky also recognized Shuri’s small form, and there were a couple of the royal guards with them. Natasha was pointing at something down field, her handgun drawn. There were several other weapons, cases, and bags nearby. It looked like whatever arsenal had been in the Quinjet had been laid out on display.

“What’s going on down there?” he asked.

“Target practice,” Steve replied. “Since we are going to be here for a few days, Nat decided to make herself useful. She and the king’s guards have been giving each other combat lessons.” 

Bucky grunted in thought. “Girls don’t get together and go shopping or get their hair done anymore?”

“Not these girls.” Steve grinned. “Wanna go check it out?”

—-

“It’s alright,” Natasha encouraged. “You can take a few steps closer to start off.”

Okoye frowned back at her. “It’s not the distance that’s the problem. I don’t like the recoil.”

“The noise is a little harsh too,” Shuri interjected. “Maybe that can be improved upon?” 

Nat smiled to herself. The Dora Milaje were certainly set in their ways. “You could use a silencer,” she replied, moving toward one of the cases. “I’m sure I have one here. And let’s get a heavier gun. It will help with the recoil.”

Ayo moves up alongside her, eyeing the various firearms that lay about. “That one looks heavy,” she said, pointing to a sniper rifle.

Natasha winced inwardly. Of all the guns here, she would pick the one weapon she had never been able to master. “I’m afraid I’m not very good with that one.”

“Want a few tips?”

The women whirled around to find Steve and Bucky strolling up to their makeshift firing range. The two were smiling, clearly enjoying themselves. Steve stopped short next to Shuri, but Bucky kept coming forward, his eyes focused on the sniper rifle that lay before her. 

“A lesson from the best sniper in the world?” Natasha replied with a smile as the man approached. “Who could resist?”

Bucky chuckled and glanced at his feet, and Natasha felt that familiar fluttering erupt in her stomach. He was cute when he smiled. 

“The mistake people make is taking a breath and holding it when they’re about to fire. That’s not exactly right.” He placed his metal hand on his broad chest and took a slow breath. “You have to breathe normally, and when it’s almost out…”

He paused, head cocked to the side in thought. After a few seconds, his blue eyes met hers and he took a step forward. “May I?” Bucky asked, gesturing towards her.

Natasha didn’t know what she was agreeing to, but he could have suggested they jump off a cliff and she probably would have gone along with it. She nodded.

The man moved behind her, close enough that she could feel his warmth, but not so close that her back was touching him. His arm, his real arm, carefully wrapped around her shoulder to place a hand on her chest, just under her collarbone. It was high enough to not be inappropriate, but Natasha fought to keep her body from stiffening. She couldn’t exactly stop her heart from pounding, however. He would certainly feel that. 

“Just breathe normally,” he said, his breath tickling her ear. 

Easier said than done. But Natasha had practiced careful control over her body her entire life. This was a difficult test, but it was one she was determined to pass.

“There, good. Right there, do you feel that?” James’ voice was a quiet rumble in her ear, and it was difficult to concentrate on whatever he was referring to. She let her eyes slip closed, and let her body lean back against his. He stilled, ever so slightly, but continued.

“When you exhale, but your breath isn’t all the way out yet. Hold it there.”

She let her breathing match his, following the steady rise and fall of his chest. She felt him pause nearly at the end of his exhale, and mimicked his movement. 

“That’s when you pull the trigger,” James said.

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open. This was going too far. Was she just going to sink into his arms? With Steve and the others all watching? When he still didn’t remember her? She had to regain control of herself, and the situation. Immediately. 

She let a sly smile slip into her lips and slowly twisted her body around, feeling his arm trail around to her lower back as she moved. It rested lightly there, carefully, as she placed a gentle hand on his chest and looked up at him through her eyelashes. His ice blue eyes had gone dark, those soft lips slightly parted. She could kiss him just then. He would probably let her. It certainly was tempting. 

“I don’t think your advice will work for me, James,” Natasha said, quietly, her flirtatious smile growing a bit wider. “The problem is, I never could catch my breath around you.”

Without another word. She slipped away from him and turned back to the women around her. 

“You promised to let me use one of the sonic spears today, Okoye,” Natasha said, her voice and posture returning to normal as if nothing had happened. 

The guard smiled mischievously. “Of course. I have an extra one back at the palace.”

Okoye started off and Natasha followed the woman in red, with Ayo and Shuri quick at her heels. They left their little clearing, making their way back to the regal center of Wakanda. 

“Wow,” Shuri said with a snicker, glancing back at the men they left behind. “I think you really stunned him.”

Nat smirked to herself. “There are some weapons you don’t hold in your hands, Princess.”


	6. First Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know my timeline doesn’t match up exactly with MCU’s. Call it creative license.

When one is a superhero tasked with keeping the world safe, one doesn’t get much vacation time. Natasha wasn’t surprised to get a call from Nick Fury describing a situation outside of Wakanda. If she was honest, the real surprise was that they had an entire 8 days in the hidden paradise before that call finally came. 

Fury had requested Captain America’s presence as well, but that was something she told the director not to count on. Steve and his best friend, however, offered her another surprise. 

Bucky had insisted he was alright without continuing his treatments with Shuri. Some memories were beginning to return on their own, and he had recovered much of his past from before being kidnapped by Hydra. And the rest, he insisted, wasn’t worth remembering. That statement had stung Natasha internally, but she had managed to keep a neutral face. 

The man was getting antsy just staying in one place, she could tell. He wanted to get out, into the action. To prove himself to be more than a patient, a victim, to show he was an asset to his friend and this new team. After much discussion, Steve seemed willing, even a bit excited to go into battle with Bucky at his side again. And Nat didn’t have an argument against it. 

Before she knew it, they were flying over the Indian Ocean in search of a SHIELD vessel that had been overrun by pirates. 

Briefing on the Quinjet before deployment was quick and easy, at least by Natasha’s standards. Steve voiced a few concerns about who was on the Lemurian Star and why, but she didn’t care to focus much on those details. Fury had given her a job to do, and asking questions only distracted her from her work. Later, probably in the solitude of her bed in the dark of night, she would make the unpleasant comparison between being used as a tool for the Red Room and being used as a tool for SHIELD, but for now, those thoughts had to be pushed from her mind. When going into a mission, a clear head was a matter of survival. 

Instead, during the monotony of checking equipment and gearing up, she focused her energy on a favorite hobby: teasing Captain America. 

“You know, if you asked Kristen out, from statistics, she’d probably say yes,” she suggested. 

It made her friend chuckle, but he dismissed the idea with a shake of his head before putting on his helmet. “That’s why I don’t ask.”

“Hey now,” another voice sounded above the jet’s noisy engines, and Nat turned to see Bucky leaning against the wall, focused on her with a smirk on his face. “You’re going to try to find him a date, but not me?”

Natasha turned and faced him, matching his flirtatious smile. “Well, Steve is too shy,” she said, with a bat of her eyelashes. “You’re a big boy. I thought if someone interested you, you’d just ask her.”

He glanced at the ground, but that grin grew wider. A thoughtful hum rose from his chest as he moved past her, a little closer than necessary. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Bucky said, meeting her eyes one more time before following his friend in a jump out of the jet. 

Everything went according to plan after that. Nat succeeded in waving off Brock Rumlow’s slightly creepy offer to help her strap into a parachute, she stopped the engines, the SHIELD agents kept any hostages from getting killed, and she managed to get access to the ship’s computers without much trouble. 

Alone in the quiet control room with her communicator on silent, however, the Black Widow completely missed the fact that Batroc was giving Captain American and the Winter Soldier a run for their money. At least, she didn’t realize they were fighting until they accidentally broke into the room with her. 

And that’s where it all went to hell. 

Steve got angry and distracted by what she was doing, Batroc deployed a grenade, equipment was destroyed, and the Winter Soldier found Batroc before his comrades did. The next thing Natasha knew, she was watching him put a bullet in the head of the man they were supposed to apprehend alive. 

—-

Natasha pushed open the door to the SHIELD briefing room with enough force to make it bang against the wall behind it. Steve and James’ heads snapped up at her intrusion. They were standing, facing each other, and had obviously been deep in conversation. But Natasha didn’t much care that she was interrupting. She was fucking livid.

“What the hell happened back there?” she demanded. “Why is Batroc dead?”

James turned towards her, arms folded over his chest, eyes cold. “He was dangerous,” he replied, his voice calm and quiet. “I put him down.”

“You put him down?” she repeated. “He had information. We wanted him alive.”

“He was too dangerous alive. We wouldn’t have been able to safely bring him in.” 

“Nat, wait a minute. You need to calm down.” Steve tried interjecting, but the Black Widow wasn’t interested in what he had to say. 

“What I need is a subject to interrogate, but here we are.” She jabbed a finger at James. “Killing Batroc wasn’t your call to make. You went way off mission, Soldier.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Natasha knew they were a mistake. Fire erupted in her opponent's blue eyes and he took a step toward her. Big, menacing, powerful, practically oozing of the brutality he had displayed that night. It was everything Natasha could do not to flinch.

“Don’t call me that,” the man snarled, punctuating every word. “My name is Bucky.”

She should have stopped there. The rational side of her told her not to push him any further. But Nat was seeing red, and feeling anything but rational. “Then act like him,” she snapped. “Sergeant Barnes was not an assassin. I saw the Winter Soldier tonight, not Bucky.”

“Hold on,” Steve jumped in again, this time putting a hand on James’ shoulder, perhaps to get both of their attention, perhaps to hold his friend back if needed. “Nat, what were you doing down there? You were supposed to help Rumlow with the hostages.” 

She paused, taking a moment to collect herself. Now it was her turn to be on the defensive. She folded her arms across her chest and steadied her voice. “I was trying to download the data from the SHIELD computers onboard.” 

Steve looked exasperated. “Why? Our mission was to rescue people, not data.”

“No, that was your mission. Mine was different,” Natasha replied, coolly. “If you have a problem, I suggest you take it up with Fury.”

Steve rubbed his forehead. “Why didn’t Fury tell us that beforehand?” 

“He thought you’d be uncomfortable with it, so he asked me.” Nat quirked an eyebrow upward. “I’m comfortable with everything.”

The Winter Soldier snorted, a cruel sneer on his face. “Everything except getting your hands dirty like the rest of us.”

Heat rose within her and Natasha’s temper sparked anew. She opened her mouth to respond, but the man kept talking. 

“We weren’t more than a distraction so you could have access to those computers. You were there in your ivory tower playing hacker while we were on deck getting bloody.”

He stepped forward again, around his friend, to face her. When James spoke again, it was in her native Russian. _“Is that what all this is about, Princess? You’re throwing a tantrum because you didn’t get what you wanted?”_

Pure rage took over and Natasha grabbed for the first thing she could reach, one of the half-full glasses of water that had been left on the conference table. She hurled it, as hard as she could, at James’ face. 

He was fast enough to raise his metal hand and block it, sending glass and water shattering everywhere. When he lowered his hand, he looked surprised… and furious. 

Natasha didn’t wait for a response. She spun on her heels and stalked out of the room. The last thing she heard before slamming the door shut was an angry Steve Rogers demanding to know what his friend had said.


	7. “To loneliness.”

It was Wednesday. 

Things around the Avengers Tower had been tense, and their Wednesday dinner was no different. Since their argument after the failed mission, James and Natasha had hardly looked at each other, let alone spoken. While they managed to at least be in the same room for dinner that night, Natasha noticed that he didn’t eat much, and didn’t miss the way he gestured subtly in her direction when he told Steve he was going to bed early. 

The mood must have been infectious. Though she did her best to cover it with false laughter and a few drinks, Natasha noticed that Tony seemed more sarcastic than usual, Steve was less talkative than usual, and Bruce seemed even less sure of himself than usual. When the topic of Wakanda’s incredible technology came up, everyone seemed to quickly and clumsily try to steer the conversation in a different direction. No one wanted to talk about Bucky Barnes while Natasha was around. 

Eventually, the little “family” of heroes dispersed, leaving Natasha alone in a dimly lit room with a fully stocked bar. She poured another martini and allowed her posture to finally give in to her dark mood. Her shoulders slumped, her elbows rested on the bar, her forehead resting in the cradle of her right hand. 

“How’d a nice girl like you wind up in a dump like this?”

Steve’s voice, masculine but soft, drifted through the night air, stirring her from her self pity. Natasha straightened and glanced to her right to find her friend had taken the barstool next to her. 

“A fella done me wrong,” she replied, playing along with a melancholy smile. “What are you still doing up?”

Steve reached over the bar to grab a bottle of beer. “Checking on a friend.”

“Clearly, your friend is fine.” Natasha flashed him a smile that might have fooled anyone… except her best friend. 

He chuckled, opened his mouth to speak, seemed to think better of it, then plunged ahead. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so worked up. You’ve shown more emotion since Buck got here than you have in all the years I’ve known you.”

Natasha’s smile evaporated and she turned her eyes down to the drink in front of her. “What is it about him that pushes your buttons?” her friend asked, gently.

Well, that was the question, wasn’t it? She knew the answer, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Even if it made her feel uncomfortable. Vulnerable. Weak. Nat took a long sip of her drink before answering.

“Our very first mission together was to infiltrate a nuclear lab, steal some data, destroy the facility, and get out. The Winter Soldier would be a distraction, drawing attention with his loud bullets and bloody knives while I slipped in and got the information. Simple, right?”

Steve cleared his throat. “Sure.” Though she wasn’t looking directly at him, Nat could see his eyes hadn’t left her face.

“Well,” she continued, “something went wrong on my end. Getting into the computer system took longer than it should have. While I was trying to sort it out, James came storming in.”

Her eyes turned toward the ceiling, her slim fingers lightly trailing the stem of her glass. “It was the first time I really got a good look at him. He was wearing a mask that covered his face, his hair was long, wild. The way he held his body was like… raw power that he only just held back. He moved with determination and this brutal grace. Everything was controlled. Nothing was wasted.”

A mischievous smile came to her lips before she turned to face her friend. “He tortured and killed a scientist, right there, right in front of me, to get the information I needed to complete our mission,” she continued, slightly amused at the horror that lit up Steve’s eyes. “No hesitation, no second thoughts. It was his job, and he just did it.”

One of her hands reached across the space between them to rest on his knee. “You see, he was everything I was brought up to be. Everything I was conditioned to admire and respect. Brutal, efficient, purposeful, strong, obedient. He got an order and nothing stood in his way of completing it. I watched him murder that man and I _wanted_ him, more than I had ever wanted anyone before.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks at the admission. A strand of her hair fell against her cheek, and she let it stay, as she was able to hide behind it. “The problem is, even after I left and tried to change and tried to be a better person and atone for what I’ve done, that memory of him still lights me on fire.”

Her eyes met Steve’s again. “Do you understand?” she asked, pleading, fear creeping into her voice. “Steve, when he killed that man a few days ago, I felt that passion again. And I can’t turn it off any more than I can forget how to shoot a gun.”

With a slow exhale, her friend lowered his eyes to the bar top as he considered her words. She felt slightly guilty laying this all in him, especially such intimate issues that old-fashioned Steve never felt comfortable discussing. Heartbeats passed until he raised his gaze to meet her eyes again.

“I know your past still haunts you,” he began slowly, “I know it always will. But despite everything that happened and everything that happened to you, you’re a good person. There’s nothing you won’t do to keep others safe. And I think that’s a pretty heroic quality.”

She sniffed and cracked a smile, ready to make a joke to lighten the mood. But Steve surprised her by reaching over to cover her hand with his. He continued, his voice gentle.

“I know Bucky’s a good person too, even though he’s done some pretty horrible things. You’re two of my best friends and I want you both to be happy. But…”

His ocean blue eyes remained focused on hers as he struggled with what to say. 

“I know you still have feelings for him. But do you think you’d be better off without him?”

Natasha smiled, sadly. “I told myself that every day between the time he shot me and when he showed up at the Smithsonian. Sometimes I believed it, usually I didn’t. But I can’t just move on, even if he doesn’t want me. He… makes me feel differently than any other man I’ve been with. And you know there’s been a few.”

That made him chuckle, but she continued. “You know what it’s like, Steve. There was one girl for you, and there’s one guy for me. And if that means we live a life of heartbreak without them, then so be it.”

The sadness in her friend’s eyes deepened, but he nodded in understanding. Steve gave her a pat on the hand before holding his beer bottle up. “To loneliness then?” 

Nat smiled, broadly. “To loneliness. And to friends who make us feel a little less alone.” 

She raised her glass and tapped it against his bottle before draining the rest of her drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry. We’re not just going to leave Nat like that. The next chapter is almost completely written already.


	8. Dessert

She didn’t need to turn on the lights in the hallway. She knew her path well, having walked it nearly every night. Her bare feet made no sound against the carpet as she tiptoed along, feeling her way. The path down the middle of the hall was slightly more worn than the carpet along the edges and there was a stray thread just… here. Natasha’s big toe found the familiar marker, signaling her turn toward the dim, grey-blue light of the kitchen.

The refrigerator door was offensively loud as she opened it, making Natasha wince just as she had the night before and the night before that. It’s cool white light spilled onto the floor and washed over her body as her green eyes grazed over the contents. Hunting for her prey. 

And coming up empty?

Natasha frowned. They had been here shortly after dinner, she was certain. She had seen them herself when sneaking a peek inside under the guise of putting away leftovers. Had someone else been in the mood for a sweet treat in the middle of the night?

Feeling disappointed, Natasha adjusted the book under her arm and took one more longing glance at the inside of the fridge for something else that might suit her fancy. The taste of defeat in her mouth, however, seemed to have spoiled her appetite. With an internal shrug she let the door swing closed in front of her.

As it did, she noticed a reflection in the polished steel handle that in all of her midnight trips to the kitchen, had never been there. She whirled, instantly on guard, eyes once again adjusting to the dark surroundings. Moonlight spilled in through one of the panoramic windows, giving just enough light for Natasha to see a dark figure sitting in an armchair in the next room. Big and masculine, the figure sat, still and solid as a rock, awaiting her next movement.

Natasha considered the options before her; years of gathering intelligence allowed her practiced mind to begin working through the puzzle immediately. She quickly dismissed the possibility of the figure in the sitting room being an enemy. With no sound or alerts of intrusion, it was more likely that it was a fellow resident of the mansion. 

The size of the figure made it easy to rule out the smaller and slighter members of the Avengers. Banner was frequently up at night when his experiments and theories wouldn’t let his brain turn off. But, no, his insecurities would keep him from sitting so still without fidgeting. Thor would be too impatient to simply wait for her to move. Tony was another character ruled out, as he would not have been able to keep his mouth shut for more than a few seconds. Steve certainly wasn’t one to sneak around in the shadows. That only left…

Shifting her book into her left hand, Natasha moved across the floor, smoothly, quietly, carrying herself with confidence despite the nervousness that was crawling up her spine. Her feet traveled from tile to carpet again as she reached the sitting room, moving past the light switch on the wall in favor of the softer light from one of the table top lamps. With a _click_ , it’s honey-colored glow spilled over the room.

The man before her blinked, only once, and she watched the pupils contract in those icy blue eyes that were focused solely on her. Her own gaze moved, taking in the way he was sitting. Leaning back in an armchair, elbows wide, hands folded in his lap, legs slightly spread. It was a position of non-threatening comfort, but his strong body made every position look intense. Or perhaps it was her familiarity with his intensity that colored her interpretation of his posture.

On the coffee table before him sat a wooden bowl full of dark red grapes. The missing prize she had been seeking in the fridge. A few water droplets sparkled in the soft light, and it occurred to Natasha that he must have washed them. 

What was this game?

“James,” she said in greeting after several seconds of silence. 

He nodded ever so slightly in response to his name. There was a pause. 

“I wanted to catch you alone,” he finally said. “I know you come down here almost every night, so figured this was the best way to do it.”

Natasha cocked her head to the side. “Do you keep tabs on the nightly habits of everyone in this tower?”

The soldier didn’t hesitate in snapping back. “Don’t you?”

The corners of her mouth quirked upward involuntarily. Of course she did. Old habits died hard for the both of them, it seemed.

Natasha moved to the couch across from him, gracefully lowering herself into its soft cushions. Her book was placed on the seat next to her, upside down and spine away from his eyes. One secret she would keep to herself, despite its insignificance. She crossed her legs, bare but for her pajama shorts, and folded her hands across her knee. It was a feminine version of his own posture, relaxed, confident, expectant.

The grapes, beautiful, rich, shining, tempted her like a bowl of tiny gemstones, but she ignored them in favor of meeting those blue eyes again. “So, is this your way of saying you have an upper hand? That you know my more intimate routines?”

He chuckled, the quiet sound surprising and pleasing to her ears. “No, Natasha.” 

She was thankful for the dim light that hid the way goosebumps rose on her skin at the way he said her name. 

He glanced towards the window, seemingly contemplating his next words before turning back to her. “Actually,” he continued, his voice resuming its serious tone. “It’s my way of apologizing.”

Despite her usually flawless control over her body and her emotions, she felt her lips part ever so slightly as she drew in a breath of surprise. It was a lapse that lasted only a millisecond before she regained her composure, but she didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered down to her mouth. 

She decided it was best to remain silent, waiting for him to take the lead in this conversation, this careful dance he had instigated. 

He shifted to lean his elbow on the chair’s armrest, and Natasha watched his body closely. His posture was becoming somewhat casual. Aloof. But his eyes held emotions that his body and face hid so carefully away. There was a light there, a fire that even she would have missed if she didn’t know him so very well. 

“The things I said the other day were… inappropriate,” he finally continued. “I was angry. Frustrated. But I shouldn’t have tried to hurt you in my frustration.” 

Now here was something. The Winter Soldier speaking of his feelings. And hers. One of Natasha’s eyebrows arched upward and she didn’t try to stop it. 

She considered her response carefully before speaking, watching his face as he watched hers, trying to read what was written in those enigmatic features. His breathing was shallow, his body too still. He was anticipating a response, but didn’t know what it would be. 

After all, the last time they had spoken, she had thrown a glass at his head. 

“I also overreacted and said things I shouldn’t have,” Natasha replied slowly. “In the heat of the moment, I neglected to consider that what we do is completely different than what you’re used to.”

He snorted in response. “That’s one way to put it.”

They both settled into silence again, and she lowered her eyes while he turned his towards the window again. They were both uncomfortable and unsure. He was still out of practice in having serious conversations with people, and she was dangerously close to feelings that she had kept so carefully boxed away. 

Her next words were an olive branch that she was somewhat terrified he would accept.

“You know I came from a similar situation,” Natasha admitted. She spoke slowly, keeping careful control over her voice so it wouldn’t waiver. “I understand that integrating is difficult on many levels. If you ever want advice, or just to talk, I might be able to help.”

When he turned back to her, that look of quiet desperation had crawled across his features again. “Actually, Steve had suggested that too. I just… I don’t even know how to do _this._ ”. He spread his hands, indicating the scene in which they both were playing.

Natasha offered a gentle smile. “You’re doing fine.”

James’ expression softened. He mumbled his thanks shyly, but she was certain he meant it. 

There was silence again as she watched him wrestle with something inside. Those blue eyes were lowered to his lap, hiding his thoughts from her for several seconds, and Natasha braced herself for the questions she had been fearing he would ask.

Instead, he surprised her again. “So what is this?” he asked, gesturing to the bowl of grapes. “A snack and a book every night?”

Okay. Now this, she could handle. 

Natasha shifted, leaning forward to pick a single grape from the bowl. “Just a little indulgence,” she said with a smile, resting her elbows on her knees. She pretended to ignore the way her loose fitting shirt hung lower as her posture changed. 

“Growing up in Russia, fresh fruit was a luxury. Importing it was too great an expense to be justified by the... facility where I was raised. But here, we can just go to the store and pick out anything we want.”

She rolled the grape between her slim fingers, watching his eyes as he followed her movements. “It’s not just a treat, but a reminder to be proud and thankful of where I am now compared to where I came from.”

She reached her arm out, offering the small fruit to him. James’ eyes widened slightly, but he quickly covered his surprise with a smile. A genuine smile that spoke of gratitude and relaxation and made her heart flutter. He reached over the table with his real hand to take it, his warm fingers brushing against hers in a move that she was certain was intentional. 

They ate in silence for several seconds, and when James spoke again his voice was looser, less strained, more at ease. “And how about the book? Does it have some significance too?” 

“No,” Nat said with a melancholy smile. “I’m sure you know how it can be late at night, alone, dark, and quiet. All the screams of the past have a tendency to surge up around you and try to drown you. So I’ve found that reading takes my mind to another, more peaceful place instead.” 

He didn’t respond immediately, but she could see in his eyes that he knew exactly what she meant. 

“It’s a good routine,” he finally replied, the simple observations of one who is trained to watch others. “Smart.”

“You’re welcome to join me anytime.” The words fell from Natasha’s lips before she had the chance to think about their implications. Oh god. What if he did? These private moments were probably the most vulnerable she allowed herself to be, and the idea of someone - especially James “Bucky” Barnes - intruding on that time was terrifying. But then again, who knew what would happen in the closeness of such dark, secret encounters? 

She did her best to suppress a shiver, and prayed he didn’t notice. 

If he did, James didn’t comment. Instead, he gave her a nod and rose from his chair. “Maybe I will. But for now, I’ll let you have your time. Thank you for letting me intrude tonight.”

Nat shot him a flirtatious smile. “Well, you didn’t give me much of a choice. You were practically holding my dessert ransom.” 

He gave her a grunt of a laugh and began to leave, walking past her towards the hallway. But she felt him pause behind her and heard the footsteps of his return. She had to fight to keep her body from tensing as he approached and felt his hands settle onto the back of the couch just behind her head. 

“Just one more question. What sort of book does the Black Widow read for entertainment?” 

“It varies,” she replied slowly, not turning around to face him. Now, what was this game? “Tonight’s choice is called _The Fountainhead_.”

He gave a thoughtful hum that made goosebumps erupt on her skin again. “How is it?” 

“Idealistic. Romantic. Punishing. Wildly American.” Her breath felt short. Did he notice?. 

“I see,” he said softly, his voice sounding amused, playful, and even closer to her ear, stoking the fire that was burning in her core. “Are you a fan of things that are ‘wildly American’?” 

Natasha blinked. Was he flirting with her again? She turned her head to glance up at him over her shoulder and found his intense blue eyes watching her with interest. 

“I’ll have to be careful around you, Sergeant Barnes,” she replied with a flutter of her eyelashes and a smile on her lips. “I can’t have you discovering all of my secrets.”

He smiled back, lively, mischievous, and so damn beautiful. The weight on the back of the couch shifted as he moved to go, leaving her grinning like a schoolgirl and completely unable to concentrate on her book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: This was actually the first chapter I wrote for this story. And it’s probably my favorite. 
> 
> Thanks to all who left kudos and comments! It’s so uplifting to log on and find someone cheering me on.


	9. Closer

“Come on down to the bar. I have a surprise for you boys ;)”

Natasha finished typing her text message, but her finger hovered over the “send” button for a moment before finally tapping it. 

Several days had passed since their late night meeting, and it was safe to say that the relationship between James and Natasha had returned to the way it had been before their argument. No, Nat corrected herself, _better_ than the way it had been. They were friendly, flirting, and spending more and more time together. 

Though she had extended the invitation, Natasha had been surprised when James showed up again in the middle of the night, a book of his own in hand. He had been present every night since, and over the course of several evenings had progressed from sitting across from her in the chair to next to her on the couch. The previous night, Natasha had dared to stretch out and rest her bare feet on his lap. He had given her a sideways glance at the contact, but didn’t give any indication that he minded. 

Still, with all the teasing smiles, secret winks, midnight rendezvous, and playful innuendos, neither of them had made a move or even a comment toward the idea of having an actual relationship, be it physical or something more. Though Nat had considered it, her fear of rejection continued to hold her back. How does one tell another that they had loved them for years and were aching to be with them? And yet, the idea of the two of them settling into a comfortable, yet stagnant, friendship was just as terrifying.

And there was something else. While the other Avengers had always shortened her name to “Nat”, James had taken to calling her “Tasha”. Just like he had before. It hadn’t been something she had asked him to do or even hinted at; it had just slipped out of his mouth one day. Shuri had said he might be able to regain some of his other memories naturally, but he never gave any other indication that he remembered her. Remembered the way they had been. 

Laughter drifted in, stirring Natasha out of her thoughts. She recognized the voices instantly as James and Steve, who had obviously gotten her text. She mentally shook herself out of her thoughts and glanced over her shoulder just in time to see the two coming down stairs into the open lounge area where she had set up. 

“Hey fellas,” she said with a smile, turning slightly so they could see the flat, black disk in her hands. “Look at the fossil I found.”

She stepped to the side, revealing more of the big, wooden piece of furniture behind her. It was shaped something like a tall chest, with fabric panels on the front just below a pair of dials. The very top tilted upward to reveal - 

“A turntable?” Steve asked with a laugh. 

James also chuckled, stepping forward to get a better look at the device. “This looks a lot like the one your mom used to have. It’s in great shape,” he said. “And look, a whole stack of records.”

“Mhm,” Natasha replied, pleased with their reaction. “I tried to get a little of everything. There’s even some AC/DC for Tony.”

Steve shook his head in wonder. “Where did you find this?”

“An antique store.”

James snorted. “The Black Widow goes antiquing?”

Nat grinned. “Natasha Romanoff does,” she replied simply, nudging him with her elbow. “You should have seen the guys who worked there trying to load it into my Corvette.”

She turned back to the record player and gently set the album onto the turntable. After the predicted crackling sound of the needle running across the plastic, the speakers came alive with an old fashioned melody. 

Closing her eyes briefly, she was content to bask in her satisfaction at surprising both men for a few seconds. A female singer began the first verse of a song about spending a sunny morning in Paris with her lover. Nat allowed her hips to begin to sway with the melody, enjoying the feeling of her A-line skirt tickling the backs of her knees as she moved. The song was sultry, romantic, and just perfect for a dance. 

Natasha moved, taking Steve’s hands and pulling him close before he could protest. “You wouldn’t make a lady dance alone, would you?” 

A rosy blush tinted her friend’s cheekbones. “Just be warned, I’ll probably step on your toes.”

It was a fair warning. For all Steve Rogers’ balance and control on the battlefield, he was a little awkward and clumsy on the dance floor. His body was too stiff, his steps timid, his sense of rhythm lacking. To her credit, Natasha kept from giggling about it, though she mentally logged away the fact that Captain America had two left feet for the next opportunity to tease him. 

When the first verse ended, Steve pulled away. “I don’t think we’re ideal dance partners,” he said with an embarrassed smile. 

Natasha opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by the other man in the room. “Step aside then, punk,” James said as he moved between the two of them, a devilish grin on his face. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

He took Natasha’s hands and spun her around before pulling her close to him. The unexpected move made her laugh, but she instantly settled into a rhythm with her new partner. It was true; James “Bucky” Barnes was a much better dancer than his friend. He took the lead with confidence and she found it naturally easy to follow his footsteps as they circled together around their makeshift dance floor. Steve, their surroundings, and the rest of the world were forgotten, and all Nat wanted to think about was the way he was moving with her. 

When the music swelled mid-song, James leaned her back into a graceful dip, and when she returned to her feet, Natasha moved even closer to him. The song began to slow, and as their steps followed its tempo, she took the opportunity to rest her head against his chest. She felt truly happy in that moment, lost in the music, safe in his arms, separated only by the clothing between them. Just when she thought things couldn’t be more perfect, she felt him lean down to rest his cheek against her head.

Eventually, the music stopped and the record player lapsed into quiet static, but the two hardly moved. Natasha stood for several heartbeats, enveloped in James’ arms, savoring his warmth. She eventually felt him shift, pulling backward, away from her, and her heart screamed in protest. But she remained silent, and her gaze moved upward to find his blue eyes searching hers. 

“Tasha,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why does this feel…”

He trailed off, searching for the right words, and Natasha felt a sudden sense of panic surge within her. He finally suspected. He was finally going to ask, and she would finally have to tell him the truth. One way or another, this was the moment when everything would change. 

His hands, one warm, one cool, traveled down her shoulders to her elbows, holding her away from him so he could better watch her face. Natasha’s lips parted, her mouth feeling dry, her heart hammering in her chest, waiting for him to ask. She saw him swallow, then he began. 

“Did we kno-”

Other voices echoed through the room, cutting him off. James’ head snapped up and Natasha took the opportunity to step backward, out of his reach. It was Tony’s voice… and Steve’s. He must have left the room while they were dancing. And there was Thor’s booming laugh to accompany them as the rest of Avengers were making their way closer and closer. 

Her eyes met James’ again, but he quickly broke contact and turned his gaze down to the floor, shoving his hands in his pockets in defeat. The moment had passed, and again, the question went unasked. She felt an odd mixture of guilt, relief, and regret.

So Natasha went back to doing what she did best: pretending that everything was normal. She fixed a pleasant smile onto her lips, turned to the bar and snatched a bottle of wine. It was Wednesday, after all, and everyone was getting together for dinner. 

“Can I pour you something?” she asked James, her voice lighthearted and friendly, as if nothing had passed between them. 

A few seconds ticked by before he answered, but he eventually turned to face her again. “Yeah,” James said, straightening his shoulders. He glanced at the bottle in her hand with a frown. “But I want something stronger than that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter felt a little forced to write and I feel like it came out a bit clunky. I probably should have edited it again, but didn’t want to take too much time to post it. I’ll go back through later and fix all the mistakes I’m sure are in there. 
> 
> You guys, were getting close to the end of the story! I have 4... maybe 5 chapters left in my mind.


	10. The Rules of the Game

It turned out that Bucky Barnes was a fairly good actor. Had she not actually been in his arms when he nearly asked the question, Natasha might not have suspected anything was on his mind at all. He still laughed and joked with Steve and the rest of the Avengers, ate a healthy portion of dinner, and put down a few glasses of scotch. Though he was seated at the other end of the table from her, Nat caught his eye more than once, and each time he had returned her glance with a smile or a wink. 

His jovial mood helped her to relax as well, and it wasn’t long before Natasha found herself enjoying the company of others. She still felt a bit on edge, but took refuge in the crowd of friends that had gathered. James wasn’t the type to broach such a personal subject in front of everyone. For now, at least, she could forget about their secrets and simply enjoy herself. 

Everyone else seemed to be in good spirits as well. Between travel to Wakanda, tension surrounding James’ integration into the group, and their day-to-day work of investigating something suspicious going on within SHIELD, it had been weeks since the Avengers had the opportunity to relax. 

In fact, everyone seemed to be enjoying the evening enough to extend the fun into the night. More drinks were poured after dinner and the party of heroes eventually migrated to the seating area near the bar. Conversation turned to joking, joking to teasing, teasing was aided by a strong competitive spirit which led to an impromptu game night. And when there are people in the group with Tony Stark’s level of maturity, the games tend to be just as juvenile.

“Dare!” Thor proclaimed as if it was a battle cry. 

Clint rolled his eyes. “What a surprise.” 

“He always picks ‘dare,’” Natasha whispered to James, who was seated next to her on the couch. She had been pleased when he had chosen to take the open spot, and even more so when he had laid his metal arm on the top of the couch behind her, allowing her to scoot in a little closer. 

Rhodey, who had been the one to ask Thor, looked smug. “I dare you to get me another drink.”

The Asgardian’s face fell. “Well that’s hardly a challenge.” 

“Sure it is. You have to get just the right amount of gin in there before adding the tonic. Not too much ice. And put a lime wedge in there, too.”

“I will take this dare,” Thor huffed, getting to his feet, a sour expression on his face, “although it is beneath me.”

“Was he expecting some epic quest?” James asked, laughing along with the others. 

Sam shrugged. “It seems like everything Thor does is epic is some way or another.” 

“If you think he’s dramatic, you should meet his brother,” Clint added as he rose to his feet and moved toward the record player. “Frank Sinatra or Louis Armstrong next?”

“Strange,” Tony replied. “You mispronounced ‘Led Zeppelin.’”

“Bucky!” Thor’s booming voice drew everyone’s attention. He returned to the lounge and handed Rhodey’s drink over, but remained on his feet. He faced James with hands on his hips, a confident smile on his face. “I choose you.”

“Oh boy,” James said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Okay… dare.”

Sam groaned and Steve visibly winced. 

“What? Did I do something wrong?” James asked.

But Thor spoke before anyone else had a chance to. “My hammer, Mjolnir,” he began, placing the hammer on the coffee table with a thud, “can only be lifted by the most worthy…”

“Only by him, he means,” Clint interrupted. “It’s some kind of trick.”

“It’s not a trick!” Thor insisted. “Bucky, I dare you to try to lift my hammer.” 

“He does this to everyone new,” Steve explained with a shrug of apology to his friend. 

Natasha nudged James with her elbow. “Might as well get it over with.”

“If it’s a question of being righteous, why would you ask the guy who did Hydra’s dirty work?” James asked as he rose to his feet and approached the hammer. 

“Hey, look at it this way,” Tony said, “if you pick it up, you get to rule Asgard.”

The others cheered him on, and Winter Soldier eyed the hammer before reaching out his right hand, his real hand, and gripping the handle. He tugged, then pulled on it in earnest. The hammer didn’t budge, of course. So he tried again, this time with his vibranium hand. When that failed too, James eventually gave a shrug of surrender. 

“What a surprise,” he said, dryly, before bending to get a better look at the weapon. “It’s weird. It almost feels like it’s rooted in place. I couldn’t even budge it.”

Thor stepped closer and lifted the hammer easily, a proud smile on his face. “Like I said, it’s not a matter of strength. It’s because you’re not worthy,” he replied. 

“Don’t scratch the table!” Tony complained as Thor set it back down again. “Pepper would have my head.” 

James moved back to the couch and looked down at Natasha before taking his seat. “Not embarrassed to be sitting next to one of the weaker Avengers?” 

“Well, we all know who the mightiest Avenger is,” Thor interrupted with a grin.

Tony and Bruce shared a glance. “Sure do,” Bruce said.

Thor looked lost, but the others laughed as James settled himself back on the couch. 

“So it’s my turn now?”

Steve nodded. “Yup. Anyone you want.”

A second of silence ticked by, and Nat reached for her drink. 

“Easy,” James said, turning to face her. “Tasha. Truth or dare?”

“If she says ‘dare’, tell her to give me a lap dance,” Tony interrupted.

Natasha and James both turned to glare at him. 

“Fine. Dare her to give _you _a lap dance,” Tony relented with an exaggerated sigh. “At least that would be fun for the rest of us to watch.”__

__“In that case,” she replied with a roll of her eyes, “I’d better pick ‘truth.’”_ _

__She felt James’ gaze settle back on her as she took a slow sip of her wine. He was considering asking; she could see it on his face out of the corner of her eye. But he wouldn’t. Not here. Not now. Not with everyone around. Not so intimate a secret and so important an answer._ _

__But he surprised her._ _

__“Did we know each other? Before all of this?”_ _

__The room went completely and impossibly still, and Natasha felt every eye on her. Her stomach did a backflip and heat rose to her cheeks, but the Black Window remained in careful control of her posture and expression. She lowered her glass and set it on an end table before turning to meet James’ gaze._ _

__A small smile rose to her lips, one that would convey to the rest of the group that she still had secrets and only she would choose when to reveal them._ _

__“Yes,” she said, simply._ _

__She saw James inhale sharply and heard the men around her nearly explode with commentary. Steve alone remained silent, watching two of them with concern etched all over his features. But Natasha didn’t pay attention to anyone in the room but the man sitting next to her. He finally had his answer. Now what would he do with it?_ _

__“How?” her opponent hurried to ask. “For how long? What did we-“_ _

__Natasha held up a hand, stopping him, taking back control of the conversation. “No, you get one question. Those are the rules of the game.”_ _

__That familiar fire ignited behind James’ blue eyes, but his lips turned upward in a smirk. “Okay,” he finally conceded, turning to lean back on the couch, breaking eye contact. “You’re right, those are the rules.”_ _

__Suppressing a sigh of relief, Nat turned to choose her target. The others in the room didn’t look to be too happy about her revelation. In order to continue the game, she would have to pick someone who wouldn’t have the nerve to turn the questions back toward her again._ _

__“Bruce,” she said, smiling at the alarm that crossed over the scientist’s features. “Truth or dare?”_ _

__—-_ _

__The night didn’t last much longer, at least not for Natasha. She stayed to watch a few more turns, then finished her drink and rose with a quiet announcement that she was heading to bed. But as she moved to the bar to cork the remainder of her bottle of wine, she felt a presence behind her._ _

__She turned to find James, eyes focused on her, hands in his pockets, smile gone from his face. “I’ll walk you up,” he said, simply._ _

__Oh no._ _

__Feeling tired, emotional, and slightly hazy from the effects of the alcohol, Natasha felt that this was probably the worst time for him to confront her. She felt the need to run, to escape from his piercing eyes, but she held herself in place with a friendly smile painted on her lips. “Don’t be silly,” she replied. “Stay and enjoy yourself. I know the way to my own room.”_ _

__She turned to leave without waiting for a response, but Natasha was stopped in her tracks by a cool, metal hand on her elbow. He held her, gently but firmly, insistent. The touch of a man who was determined to get his way._ _

__“No,” James said as he stepped to her side. “I want to walk with you.”_ _

__Natasha swallowed hard against the rising fear inside of her. There would be no hope for escape this time, so she surrendered. She gave James a short nod before heading toward the elevator, the shadow of his presence looming over her like a storm cloud as they walked._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! That’s a lot of dialogue.
> 
> As always, thank you for the kudos and comments!


	11. Falling

The elevator was completely silent as Bucky and Natasha rose upward. But then again, he wouldn’t have expected any different. Natasha wasn’t one to readily share information. In fact, she hardly looked at him on the way, just stared blankly at the doors in front of them. 

With a stereotypical “ding”, the elevator doors opened and the girl stepped out, making her way toward her room. Bucky followed for a few steps, then paused. They were alone, in an empty hallway. She would slip away from him if he let her. He had to ask, and it had to be now, when she couldn’t find a way to squirm out of his questions again.

“Tasha,” he said, his voice gentle, and she stopped in her tracks, frozen, waiting. Bucky plunged forward.

“Tell me about us.”

A few seconds of tense silence ticked by, and he thought for a moment she might refuse to answer. Might bolt toward her room, or might use some wordplay to talk in circles without revealing anything. But instead, she turned, slowly, and finally looked him in the eye. Her green eyes were shining, and a melancholy smile was painted on her face. 

“What do you remember?” she asked, her voice surprisingly calm. 

But he shook his head in response. “Nothing. Well…”. he paused, considering. “Almost nothing. I don’t have exact memories, but when you touch me, it feels familiar.” 

Her smile grew broader and she took a step closer. “Is that all you feel when I touch you?”

A diversion. Bucky wouldn’t fall for it this time. “One thing at a time, Natasha,” he said, firmly. “Tell me why I know what you feel like.”

She pursed her lips and turned from him again. Several heartbeats of time passed and he was about to ask again when she finally began speaking. 

“Though I was young when we met,” Tasha said, “I had a lot of field experience and I was good at what I did. But you? You were a legend. Everyone knew the Winter Soldier was Hydra’s most powerful and loyal weapon. When I got an assignment at your side, I was the envy of everyone.”

—-

The Black Widow sat in the snow behind a brick wall, waiting patiently. Little clouds rose from her lips as she sat, doing her best not to shiver. She pulled up her sleeve to check the watch on her wrist. Would he be late? There were only a few seconds until he was supposed to start. 

The second hand hit the top of her watch and the sound of gunfire immediately filled her ears. Natasha smiled to herself. He was perfectly on time. She shouldn’t have expected less. 

Voices called out around her, and Natasha held her position as she heard them fade. The Winter Soldier had launched an all out attack on the front of the building, drawing the guards from all other sides and making her entrance easy. While the footsteps of surprised guards faded, she slipped in through the back door of the facility. 

Finding the lab she needed was simple, as she had committed the building’s blueprints to memory. With everyone either fleeing the nuclear research facility in terror or charging out to fight off the Winter Soldier, Natasha didn’t have any trouble staying hidden in the chaos. She hadn’t expected there to still be a scientist in the lab when she arrived, but he was easily subdued and sat sobbing quietly on the floor while she accessed the computer.

And that’s where it went wrong. The intelligence she had been given had an outdated password. She would have to hack into the system instead, and that would take more time. She checked her watch and began, a feeling of unease settling into her stomach. Time wasn’t something she had to spare.

Minutes ticked by. Had she not been so focused on her task, Natasha might have heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from the hallway. The door to the lab slammed open, making her jump, and she finally got a good look at her partner. 

As she would later describe to Steve Rogers, the Winter Soldier was built of raw power. His hair, tangled and wild, hung about his masked face and his muscles showed through his fitted clothes. He smelled of gunpowder and ash, and his steps were purposeful as he entered the room. That metal arm of his glinted in the fluorescent light, looking no less deadly than the firearms he carried. 

Natasha straightened and gave him a nod of respectful acknowledgement, doing her best not to show the intimidation she suddenly felt. 

“What’s taking so long?” he asked, his voice as strong and controlled as the rest of him. 

Natasha nodded to the computer. “The password I was given has changed. It’s taking longer to hack in.”

The Winter Soldier paused, considering her words while Natasha waited with baited breath. 

“Does he know the password?” he asked, pointing to the scientist with his machine gun. 

Natasha frowned. “He’s not talking.” 

The Soldier was in motion before she finished her sentence, crossing the room and hauling the blubbering scientist to his feet before pushing him over a table. The prisoner’s hands were roughly pulled behind his back. 

“Ask him,” the Winter Soldier commanded, and Natasha quickly complied.

The scientist, however, did not. When he told them both to “go to hell”, a black knife appeared in the Soldier’s hand. With a swift, fluid motion, the Winter Soldier sliced off the scientist’s pinky finger. 

Screams filled the room until the Soldier gave the man a rough shake. “When a pretty girl asks you a question,” he growled, his voice harsh, primal, “you answer her.” 

She felt a rush of heat and adrenaline course through her body and Natasha folded her hands behind her back so he wouldn’t see them shaking. 

His masked face turned toward her. “Ask him again.”

She did. And this time, the scientist gave her the password. 

Without wasting another second, Natasha turned to the computer and input the new information. It worked.

She nodded to the Winter Soldier, who quickly silenced his crying prisoner by putting a bullet in his head. 

“Hurry up,” he said to Natasha before stalking out of the lab. 

The rest of her task was easy. She quickly found her targeted data and started downloading it, but found her mind wandering as she waited. Her eyes were focused on the progress bar as it slowly crept across the screen, but her mind replayed the scene that she had just witnessed. 

Seeing the Winter Soldier, Hydra’s perfect weapon in action had ignited something within her. She hadn’t even seen his face and yet she felt drawn to him in the most carnal, physical way. He was the best of the best… and he had just called her “pretty”. 

She pressed her lips together, trying to refocus on her work. She wanted him. And she would have him, she told herself, but she had to complete her mission first.

When the download was completed, Natasha ejected the disk and pocketed it. All that was left was to escape the facility and make it to the extraction point on time. There would be a helicopter waiting for them, but it would take off at the designated time, whether they were on board or not. 

But the Winter Soldier was to be her escort out of the facility, and she was determined to make the most of it. He was waiting for her just outside the door. A few bodies dotted the hallway and there were slick splatters of blood here and there, but no active targets at the moment. It was just the two of them.

There wasn’t time for her to make a move, but she needed him to know she was interested. That she was looking forward to the end of their mission and what would surely come after. So as she stepped out of the lab, she brushed closer to his body than was necessary. She didn’t hide her gaze as she passed, letting her eyes roam over him, from head to toe and back up again. Behind his mask, the Winter Soldier’s face slowly tilted toward her, and she knew she had his attention. Natasha smiled at him before flipping her hair over her shoulder and leading the way to their exit. 

They encountered a few more guards on the way out, and though they were able to make short work of them, it was another delay on their tight schedule. The hiccups in their mission were enough to keep them from reaching their extraction point on time. The Soldier didn’t comment about it, and instead stole a truck that was in the facility’s parking lot. Traveling back to their base by helicopter would have taken a fraction of the time that it would take them driving, but there wasn’t much choice in the matter. 

Afternoon crept into evening and Natasha made herself comfortable by resting her feet on the dashboard. The mysterious man in the driver’s seat kept quiet, and she didn’t try to draw him out of his silence for some time. But she couldn’t get the scene in the lab out of her head, and the growing desire inside of her nearly made her squirm in her seat.

“Soldier,” she finally said aloud, unsure of what else to call him. 

He made no response, no movement, no indication he had even heard her. Natasha rested her head on the back of her seat and watched him carefully before continuing. 

“You really think I’m pretty?” she asked, the corners of her mouth creeping upward.

His body stilled, and he remained silent for several seconds. Natasha felt an unfamiliar stab of self doubt. Had he perceived her flirting as frivolous? Disrespectful? He wasn’t exactly her superior, but the Winter Soldier certainly deserved some reverence. She felt her cheeks grow warm as shame started to set in when he finally spoke. 

“No, Natasha,” he said. He briefly turned to face her, his expression unreadable behind the mask. “I think you’re gorgeous.” 

A shiver ran up her spine and she shot him a mischievous grin in response. 

With hours of dark road between them and their destination, the Soldier decided it was best that they rest for the night before continuing. At least, that’s what he said his reasoning was when they pulled into the parking lot of a run down motel. Natasha wondered whether his actual motives were in line with her own, but she certainly wasn’t about to complain. They didn’t have money or identification on them to rent a room, so she simply picked the lock on one as far away from the office as possible. Most of the motel appeared to be vacant anyway, and they were more than capable of dealing with whoever might come sniffing around. The room was very small, most of it taken up by a bed with a threadbare comforter. There was a small table and a single chair in the corner, and a television against the wall. As he moved to close the curtains, Natasha eyed the shower. Now _that_ sounded heavenly. She quickly excused herself, and she felt the Soldier’s eyes linger on her as she made her way to the bathroom. 

Once the blood and dust was washed off and her skin felt clean again, Natasha stood in front of the mirror, drying her hair with a towel. She regarded her reflection, considering her situation. She was going to seduce the Winter Soldier. Not just because it was her role to do so, but because she really wanted to. How long had it been since she had looked forward to intimacy as much as she was in that moment? Since she had been so turned on by a man? Sex was a tool, she had been taught, and not much more. Giving her body away came easily when she got what she wanted in return. But tonight, she had no ulterior motive. She simply wanted him. And the feeling was surprisingly foreign. 

Wrapping a towel around her body, Natasha shook her damp hair away from her face and swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. This felt… important to her. It wasn’t supposed to. 

She stepped out of the bathroom and found him sitting at the small table, his forehead resting in the palm of his right hand, his real hand. Hearing her approach, the Winter Soldier glanced in her direction and was quickly stirred to his feet. Natasha would have found some satisfaction in his reaction, had she not been so taken by his face.

He had finally removed that mask, and he was absolutely beautiful beneath it. Dark hair framed fair skin. The shadow of a beard colored his cheeks and chin, and his full lips were parted as he took in a breath. But his eyes were what stole her attention. Crystal clear and blue, with an intensity behind them that made Natasha’s breath catch in her throat. They nearly glowed in the dim light with the same fire Natasha felt inside. 

Her lips parted as he approached, slowly, carefully. Those eyes trailed up and down her body, and despite all of her training and practice, Natasha felt trapped, frozen in his gaze. His hands moved upward to gingerly touch her bare shoulders as his piercing gaze moved upward. His eyes searched hers, blue meeting green, for several heartbeats before he spoke.

“Is this what you want?” the Soldier asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

The question confused her. She knitted her eyebrows together and searched for an answer. No one had ever asked what she wanted before. “What do you mean?” she finally managed to ask. 

His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed, the fingers on her shoulders softly trailing down to her elbows and back up again. “I won’t make you if you don’t. Do you really want this?” he asked again, as if he couldn’t believe she actually did. “Do you want… me?”

At that moment, there was nothing Natasha had ever wanted more in her life. At a complete loss for words, she raised a hand to gently brush against his cheek, and that was apparently all the permission he needed.

His head dipped down, lowering his lips to her. The kiss was surprisingly gentle, amazingly tender, as if he was afraid the action alone might break her. She returned it, just as softly, savoring his taste of salt and iron. 

The Soldier broke off their kiss with a sigh. “I should shower too,” he muttered.

But Natasha found herself grabbing at his shirt and pulling him close again. “No,” she begged. “I like you like this. I want you just the way you are.”

His eyes moved to find hers again, shining with surprise and appreciation before enveloping her in another kiss. This one was stronger, more passionate, and its intensity made her tremble. 

Later that night, after they were left exhausted and blissfully satisfied, Natasha lay awake. They both lay on their sides, facing each other, his metal arm draped over her hip, holding her close even as he slept. She found herself watching his face, feeling the steady inhale and exhale of his breath, reaching up to brush a strand of dark hair from his cheek. 

There was some feeling inside of her. Something completely foreign welling up. She felt like she was suddenly drowning in it, and was painful and beautiful all at once. 

—-

“I realized I had fallen in love with you,” Natasha said, her green eyes rising to meet his again. “You told me later that you felt the same.”

James’ mouth was dry. He wasn’t surprised they had worked together. He had expected the sex. But this was… more than he had suspected. 

“You loved me?” he repeated in disbelief, everything inside of him needing to hear it again. “We were in love?”

That melancholy smile appeared on her face again. “Is that so hard to believe? We were both conditioned to be used as tools, to do whatever they wanted of us. That night, we treated each other as if we had value, as if we were actually human beings. It was the first time either of us had felt that way, at least that you could remember. How could we not fall in love?” 

She paused, visibly collecting herself before continuing. “That wasn’t the only night we spent together. We made a good team, unstoppable, really, and our handlers saw that. We had a lot of missions together, and we took advantage of every spare moment. And there were other times we would see each other, secretly. We both knew it was a bad idea, even a deadly one. But neither of us could stop, even if we had wanted to.”

James searched his mind. If their feelings for each other were as strong as Natasha described, some memory should resurface. It was agonizingly frustrating to be left out of such an important part of his life.

“I don’t remember any of it,” he finally mumbled, feeling ashamed. 

She nodded in response, her eyes dropping to the ground. “I know. But maybe it’s better that way.”

The heat of anger flashed through him, and James curled his hands into fists. “How can you say that?” he demanded, his voice rising in volume. “How could it possibly be better to forget? I went for decades being alone. Being used. My only worth was that I could destroy, and I hated myself for that, Natasha.”

That familiar feeling of anguish and panic was creeping up inside of him, and he fought to push it down. James paused, took a breath, and carefully took control of his emotions. When he spoke again, despair only barely slipped through his words. “If I knew there was someone out there who loved me, it might have been more bearable.”

“More bearable?” Natasha repeated, her voice also swimming with sorrow. “More bearable to yearn for someone and no be able to touch them? To see them be put in harm's way, used over and over again, and not even be able to speak to them?”

She shook her head, and they both fell into the silence of their own thoughts. He hated Hydra. Discovering more and more of what they had taken from him over and over again was torture. 

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” James finally asked. “Why play all of your little games and dance around it?”

Natasha’s cheeks flushed red and she avoided looking him in the eye. “I’ve been missing you for years, James. And when you came back, you came for Steve.”

He stepped forward, holding his hands up. “Natasha, that’s not fair,” he began, but she cut him off.

“No,” she replied, her voice sharp, her eyes snapping up to meet his. “It isn’t fair. And it wasn’t fair for the man I love to look straight through me as if I was nothing. As if I didn’t exist. You came back for Steve, and you asked for your memories of him back. You were best friends again and I _still_ didn’t exist.”

She took a breath and ran her hands through her crimson hair, and he could see her entire body tremble. 

When Natasha continued, her voice was softer. “I had to make sure you still would want me, James,” she said, nearly pleading. “I thought… I couldn’t just tell you. I needed you to discover it for yourself. I needed you to fall for me again.”

“And you…” he replied, his voice thick, his throat tight. “You’re still in love with me?”

She smiled. That beautiful smile that could pierce his heart as surely as a knife. It was all the answer he needed. 

James stared at her. She was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. She had everything a man could possibly desire, and the brains to know it. She was smart enough to keep up with his banter, loyal to his dearest friend, thrilling enough to keep him guessing. She was sweet in a way that made him feel good about himself, but confident enough to call him out when he screwed up. He enjoyed and looked forward to her company, and even regularly sought it out. Physically, he wanted her so badly that he ached. And she knew of all the atrocities he had done, all the horrors he had committed, and she still loved him. She was perfect in every way, and she was offering himself to him. To be his. 

And yet, James found himself saying, “Natasha, I can’t.”

Her face fell, and she turned away from him. He rushed to explain. “You say you love me just as I am, but I don’t. I don’t even know who I am. Sometimes I feel like Bucky, and sometimes I’m the Winter Soldier, and sometimes I’m something in between.”

He took a breath. “I can’t give myself to someone else when I don’t know who I am.”

When Natasha turned to face him, her eyes were shining with unshed tears, and he felt a cold stab of guilt rush through him. But she shook her hair back from her shoulders, drew herself up to her full height, and smiled again. It was a show of strength, but he saw through it instantly. Here was this perfect woman, and he was crushing her. 

“It’s okay,” Natasha said, her voice a quiet surrender. “I’ve waited years for you. What’s a little bit longer?”

James opened his mouth to reply, but she was gone. She retreated through her bedroom door in a flash, leaving him standing alone in the empty hallway, feeling just as empty inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s not over yet!


	12. Insight

James was staring at the ceiling when his alarm went off.

He winced, reached over to turn it off, and slowly rubbed his forehead with his real hand. He had watched the sun creep through the spaces in the blinds as it rose. He had known it was time to get up even before his alarm sounded. Sleep had evaded him for most of the night, and he was reluctant to get out of bed. After all, today he would have to face the woman whose heart he had just broken.

Operating on little sleep or little food wasn’t really a foreign feeling, and he suspected his enhanced body was better equipped than most to function while lacking. Still, it didn’t feel great, and James groaned as he pushed himself upward and out of bed. 

His stomach felt slightly nauseous as he started the shower, and James knew better than to blame it on the previous night’s alcohol. No, this feeling came from dwelling over a girl all night long, from both looking forward to seeing her again and dreading it. 

If he was completely honest with himself, James was a little disappointed that he had even asked about their history. He had been enjoying their time together. The friendly flirting, the warm rush it gave him when he would catch her watching him, the quiet nights when they would sit together and read, just so he would have the opportunity to be close to her. How would their relationship change now that he knew how deeply their past ran? Natasha had said she loved him. Would that mean she wouldn’t be satisfied with the way they were? 

He took off his pajama pants with a sigh of frustration and stepped into the shower. The warm water ran through his hair and over his body. For a moment he just stood and let it fall, savoring the feeling of the night washing away, giving him a fresh start to the new day. He was second guessing himself, rethinking everything, just as he had all night long. It was time to stop, he resolved, as empty thoughts without actions or decisions were getting him nowhere. 

That resolution helped him feel slightly more motivated to clean himself, shave, and dress for the day. He didn't hesitate walking out the door of his room or making his way downstairs. But then he got to the kitchen, and she was there. 

Natasha was sitting on the counter, still in pajama shorts and a tank top that while loose fitting, left little to the imagination. She held a piece of toast and peanut butter in one hand, and was laughing at something. Steve was sitting at the bar, coffee mug in front of him, opening his mouth to speak, but both grew silent as James entered the room. He hesitated in the doorway, suddenly and painfully unsure of himself again. 

“Hey Buck,” Steve finally said, essentially inviting him into the room. Okay, he could do this. It was just another, normal morning. The hardest part had been last night, James told himself. 

“Hey,” he returned, crossing the room in search of the coffee maker. Which happened to be directly next to where Natasha sat on the counter. Great. 

She glanced down at her bare feet as he approached, and he quickly turned her eyes from her as well, reaching up into a nearby cabinet for a mug. God, she was only inches away. A day ago, he would have had something clever to say, something that would make her flash that mischievous grin of hers. Or maybe he would have brushed the outside of her thigh with his hand as he set down the coffee pot, just to see that fire in her eyes. But today, James felt more out of place than he had when he first arrived at the tower.

“Good morning,” Natasha said, quietly. 

His eyes moved up to find hers and he returned the greeting. He paused, unsure if he should ask, but then plunged ahead anyway. “How are you doing?”

He said it quietly enough that Steve wouldn’t have been able to hear it. She seemed to turn over the question in her mind, her expression unreadable. Finally, she set the remainder of her toast down, cocked her head to the side, and gave him a small smile. 

“I’m fine,” she said, silently hopping back down to the floor. “I told you I would be. I have better things to do than sit in my room and pine over you all day.”

Ouch. James turned his eyes back to his coffee. He deserved that. 

But Natasha wasn’t done speaking. She raised her voice to include Steve in the conversation. “You boys will be busy today, too. We have a briefing this afternoon.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, straightening in his seat. 

“If I told you now,” Natasha said with a sly grin, “we wouldn’t need a briefing, would we?”

She gently patted Jame’s metal arm with her hand, the sudden contact surprising him. “I’ll see you there,” she said before padding out of the kitchen on her bare feet. 

James watched her go, slowly releasing the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He nearly forgot his friend was in the room until Steve cleared his throat. 

“So,” Steve began, slowly. “You wanna talk about it?”

James shook his head. “Not exactly.”

The other man gave a nod and rose from his seat, relief painted all over his face. “Good. I’ve had enough of chit chat. Let’s go to the shooting range.”

“Now that,” James replied with a smile, “sounds like perfect therapy.” 

\---

“Before we get started,” Commander Maria Hill said, “I need to know that none of this information will leave this room.”

Natasha leaned back in her seat, casting a glance over her shoulder. “She’s talking to you, Tony.”

The billionaire sat at the far end of the conference table, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, forehead resting in his hand. “If you wanted my full attention, you shouldn’t have called a meeting when I’m hungover.”

Biting back a sarcastic comment, Natasha returned her attention to the woman standing before them. She had found it odd when Hill asked for their briefing to be at the Avengers Tower, rather than the Triskelion, but she quickly pieced together that the woman’s opening comment had something to do with it. Hill didn’t want anyone knowing what she was about to say, and perhaps even that she was speaking to them. 

The rest of the Avengers were also seated at the table, with the exception of Thor who had departed that morning, returning to business in Asgard. Most managed to at least look like they felt better than Tony, despite their previous late night, though no one seemed overly happy to be there. In fact, even the always composed Hill looked uncomfortable, which was something Natasha wasn’t used to. 

“Well, here’s something that should wake you up,” Hill said, resting her hand on a stack of files sitting in front of her. “Nick Fury is in hiding.”

She was right. All eyes snapped up toward the speaker in surprise. 

“Wait, what do you mean ‘in hiding?’” Bruce stammered. 

“There was an attempt on his life,” the dark haired woman continued. “He thought it best to lay low for a while. But that doesn’t mean he’s out of the loop.”

Steve shifted in his seat. “Do you know where he is?” 

“We’ve been in contact, yes,” Hill said, shortly. 

Natasha frowned, chewing on her thumb nail. Fury wasn’t the type to spook easily. If he felt the need to go into hiding, the threat to his life must be legitimate. 

“There aren’t many people in the world who would dare go after Fury,” she mused aloud. “Why is someone chasing him?” 

“Because of this.” Hill tapped a button on her tablet and the hologram of a ship appeared. It looked something like of SHIELD’s usual helicarriers, but on a gigantic scale. Bigger in size, and bigger in armory, judging by the multiple weapons that poked out of the ship’s surface like thorns. 

Tony finally sat forward in his seat. “Project Insight? I was told that was still a few years from being completed.”

“You know about this?” Steve snapped. 

“What, you think SHIELD is going to design some superweapon and not have the resident genius work on it? Of course I know about it,” Tony said with a wave of his hand, as casually as if he had been discussing the stock market.

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Hill cut him off. “Project Insight was supposed to be SHIELD’s next phase. A bigger, more powerful peacekeeping force. But Fury noticed a few things that made him suspicious, a few inaccuracies here and there. Once we got the data from the Lemurian Star, he was able to put it all together. He tried to delay Insight, and it nearly got him killed.”

“Why delay it?” Tony asked. “Fury was one of Insight’s advocates.” 

Hill held Tony’s gaze across the table and dropped her second bombshell of the day. “Because it’s been compromised. SHIELD has been infiltrated by enemy agents, who will use Insight to take down anyone they deem a threat.”

Clint leaned back in his chair, folding his hands across his lap. “So we find the bad guys and take them out?”

“It’s not that simple.” Maria Hill hesitated, and her eyes flashed over to James before dropping back down to the table in front of her. “Hydra is behind this.”

James went stiff, and Natasha didn’t miss the way the muscles in his jaw tightened, or how his knuckles turned white as they gripped the armrests of his seat. 

Hill picked up the stack of files and began passing them around the table. “Here’s a dossier of everyone we know is working for Hydra. There are certainly more.”

Nat took the file and hesitated, staring at the cover, her stomach doing somersaults. But she didn’t need to open it to know who the traitors were. Her teammates were reading the names in surprise as they flipped through the pages. 

“Rumlow?” “Sitwell?” “Jesus Christ, this goes as far up as Alexander Pierce!”

She closed her eyes. This was deep. Perhaps hopelessly so. 

“So, what,” Bruce said, spreading his hands over the table. “We have to sabotage Insight’s development, right? Stop it before it’s ready?”

“No,” Hill said, her voice quiet. “It’s ready.”

Sam whirled on Tony. “Didn’t you just say ‘years?’” 

“That’s what they told me!” Tony snapped back, finally taking off his sunglasses to glare back at Sam.

Hill held up her hands. “We all thought it was a ways out still,” she said. “Apparently Hydra’s been keeping its accelerated construction a secret, too.” 

Steve rubbed his forehead, looking tired. “When do they launch?”

A flash of fear passed through Hill’s eyes before she regained control of herself. She stood very still, hands behind her back. “Saturday.”

“Two days from now Saturday?” Rhodey repeated in disbelief. 

Hill nodded quickly in return. “There’s a party at the Triskelion to celebrate, and then they launch that night.”

Tony clicked his tongue. “And they didn’t invite us.”

“Pierce said he didn’t want any of Fury’s ‘costumed thugs’ there. But,” she followed up quickly, “we have a plan.”

The commander went on to explain the plan she and Fury had drawn up. “Security at the event will be tight, no one in or out once the party starts. The Black Widow will infiltrate in disguise. She waits for the launch to begin, then lures a Hydra agent into a position where the Winter Soldier can take him down by sniper. Let there be witnesses. We want to create panic.

“In the chaos, the Widow will find the security room and open the building to let civilians out, and to let Captain America and the Winter Soldier in to clean out all Hydra agents and apprehend Pierce. Hawkeye will be in position outside to take down any Hydra agents who try to escape. But remember, the more we can capture rather than kill, the more information we can collect from them later. We want prisoners, not bodies.”

She placed a briefcase on the table and flipped it open. Three green circuit cards sat safely nestled inside. “These targeting blades will override the commands on each Insight ship. Instead of taking out their human targets, they’ll take down each other. Once the ships launch, Iron Man, War Machine, and Falcon will get in and plant them.”

She took a breath before continuing. “This has to be done before Insight can link up with its satellites at three thousand feet. And it has to be all three ships. If just one gets away, Hydra can kill thousands of people with just their first shot.”

Silence permeated the room until Brice slowly raised his hand. “And… what about the big guy?” 

“There will be a lot of civilians around,” Hill said slowly. “I’d rather not risk the ‘big guy’ coming out. I’d like for you to stay with me, working support.”

Bruce looked very relieved. 

Natasha took a moment to glance back over at James. His head was down, examining the photographs in front of him. She had seen that look on his face before. He was memorizing his targets.

“I need to get back to SHIELD before people start wondering where I am,” Hill said, snapping the briefcase shut and drawing the attention back to herself. “If anyone has any other questions, I’d rather address them in person that risk an insecure phone line.”

“So we’re supposed to just play nice with the Hydra agents ‘til Saturday?” James said, finally breaking the silence he had held throughout the meeting. He raised his head to fix his cold gaze on Hill. 

“Yes. Let them think they’re winning until we catch them off guard,” the commander said, slowly. Her eyes narrowed as she focused on him. “You had trouble keeping your finger off the trigger on your last mission, Sergeant. Will you be able to control yourself for a few days?”

Every eye turned towards The Winter Soldier as he closed his dossier and rose to his feet. “Sure, I’ll behave,” he growled. “And then Saturday, I’ll burn them all to the fucking ground.”

He was out the door without another word, file full of targets in hand, a dark expression on his face. 

Hill folded her arms across her chest and turned toward Steve. “Should I be concerned about that one?”

He was silent for a few seconds, tapping his index finger on the table in thought, before looking up to meet her gaze. “I wouldn’t be,” Steve finally replied.

He also rose to his feet and gathered up the documents in front of him. “I wouldn’t get in his way, either,” Captain America finished before heading to the door.

Natasha had to fight to suppress a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn’t part of my original plan, but I needed to fill the emotional gap between the last one and the next. So... it’s like a bonus!


	13. Showtime

The hours leading up to Saturday night seemed to crawl by. James did his best to stay occupied and simultaneously avoid interacting with anyone at SHIELD. While he wasn’t as skilled as Natasha in the area of going undercover, he had some espionage training and could act the part of an ignorant tool if needed. But just the thought of facing a Hydra agent without taking the opportunity to wrap his metal hand around their throat made him boil inside. Instead, he and Steve had immersed themselves in training, working out, and going over their plan for that night. But there were only so many times they could study the blueprints of the Triskelion, and by Saturday afternoon the Winter Soldier inside of him was becoming restless. 

He was putting away dishes from a late lunch when Steve found him in the kitchen. A stack of papers rested in his friend’s hands and lines of concern creased his brow.

“What’s that?” Bucky asked, turning from his chore to face to the other man. 

“The commander dropped it off earlier today,” Steve replied, readily handing over the pages. “She got a list of Insight’s targets.”

Jame’s blue eyes wandered over the names on the first page. A few were familiar; fellow Avengers, radical politicians, civil rights activists, business leaders, but most of the names held no meaning to him. While James would be the first to admit he wasn’t exactly caught up on current events and social figures, he imagined there were quite a few “normal” citizens on the list. But the sheer amount of individual human beings on the pages was more than a little staggering. 

“That’s a lot of names,” he said. “Can Insight really take down all of these people at once?”

Steve shrugged. “That’s what Hill says. What I figure is we can look into some of these names after tonight. If Hydra thinks all of these people are a threat, we might have some potential allies on that list.”

“Smart,” James replied. He was opening his mouth to make a crack about the unfortunate soul whose name was “Stephen Strange”, when he heard the telltale sound of a woman’s heeled footsteps. He glanced upward to greet Natasha, and found himself frozen. 

Her crimson hair was hidden beneath a wig of blond waves, and delicate diamond jewelry accented her neck and wrist. She was wearing a dress of dark silver, short on the bottom and low on the top, held up by little straps that looked like they could slip off her shoulders much too easily. She was all curves and cleavage, shimmering and tempting, tiptoeing on the fine line between sensual and outright provocative. It was the dress of a woman who wanted to be seen. 

He was staring, James realized, and he quickly drew his eyes upward to her face. To his chagrin, he found her watching him with a smile of self satisfaction on her painted lips. The Black Widow’s first role in their plot against Hydra was to be a lure and a distraction, and it had easily worked on him, too. 

She approached, hips swaying, a hint of perfume in the air swirling around her. Steve gave her a low whistle which made her laugh, and James found himself having to clear his throat before speaking. 

“Hey,” he said, hesitantly. “You look good.”

“Thanks. That was the intention.” Tasha smiled again, reaching into the fridge for a bottle of water before turning back to the men. “What are you guys reading?”

James slid the pages along the counter toward her while Steve explained what it was. That smile of confidence slipped from her face and was replaced by one of professional stoicism. He watched her green eyes as she carefully read, skimming, pausing, moving again, turning the page and continuing. After several seconds, her gaze rose to meet his. 

“Your name is on here,” she said. 

He blinked, taking a moment to process what she was saying. He hadn’t even thought to look for his own name. 

“Look,” Natasha continued, holding the paper up to both of them, though the writing was too small to attempt to read at a distance, even with his enhanced eyes. “All the other Avengers are here. Even Hill, Fury, and Thor who’s not even on this planet right now. And here’s ‘James Buchanan Barnes.’”

Steve scratched the back of his head. “So… what’s your point?”

James met Natasha’s eyes again, and a ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. They both knew exactly what that meant.

“I figured Hydra would come for me one day,” he began, slowly. “Try to take me back and wipe my mind again. I thought I was too strong a weapon for them to just let go.”

Natasha nodded slowly. “But with something as powerful as Insight, they wouldn’t need the Winter Soldier,”

Glancing between his two friends, Steve also began to smile. “Are you saying… you’re actually free of them?”

“At least until their shiny new toy get smashed,” Tasha replied. “But for tonight, yeah. It sounds like he’s officially free.”

James exhaled, slowly. It shouldn’t matter, he told himself. He had claimed his own freedom when he defected, and had no intention of being taken back alive. But to not have the shadow of Hydra looming over him, to not have to look over his shoulder, at least for a few hours, felt incredibly liberating. 

“I should get going. My ride is almost here, and I still have to put on my face,” Natasha said, breaking into his thoughts. James glanced at her again, suddenly seized with the feeling that he wasn’t ready for her to leave.

“Wait, I’ll walk with you.” 

She paused before looking up at him and nodding. He found his place at her side and matched her pace, quick, purposeful, making their way to the front door of the Avengers Tower. 

“Stick close to Steve,” Natasha said as they walked. “Watch each others’ backs.”

He grunted in response. “We’re not the ones going in there alone.”

She suddenly stopped and turned to face him, green eyes shining with amusement. “Are you worried about me, James?”

“A little.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and met her gaze. “One girl being used as bait, heading right into Hydra’s hive? It doesn’t really make me comfortable.”

She laughed at that, a carefree sound despite the battle they were about to plunge into. “I’m not exactly helpless, you know.”

He did know, and he mentally chastised himself for being concerned. James let himself grin, hoping to portray the same ease that she did. “Can you still kick ass in those shoes?” 

“Would you like a demonstration?” She took a step closer, and he didn’t miss the way her eyes flickered over his body as she moved. A rush if heat passed through him. 

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” The words were out of James’ mouth before he thought better of them. 

She gave his comment a thoughtful hum. “So would you,” Natasha purred in response. 

James chuckled, turning his eyes toward the ground, suddenly feeling self conscious. Should he really be flirting with her after their recent, revealing conversation? She didn’t seem to mind, and over the past couple of days had occasionally even invited their banter. And… he didn’t really want to stop. 

Tasha placed a small hand on his shoulder, stirring him out of his thoughts. He looked up to find her smile gone, her green eyes boring into him. 

“Once Insight is out of the picture,” she began slowly, “you’ll be valuable to them again.”

James swallowed hard, a chill running through his blood. It was true. He was also running headfirst into a swarm of people who would want nothing less than to enslave him. 

“Please be careful,” Natasha finished.

He nodded, and they stared at each other in silence. She wanted to say more, he could see it all over her face. But Natasha had already poured her heart out to him, and there was nothing left for her to say. And James, caught between unfamiliar feelings of concern and protectiveness, awkwardly wondered to himself how much he was allowed to say when he had already rejected her. 

The Black Widow finally dropped her eyes to the floor. Her fingers slid down his arm to grasp his hand tightly, before slipping away and out the door.

—-

A photostatic veil made infiltrating Hydra’s party much too easy, almost disappointingly so. While she was thankful for the disguise, a part of Natasha missed the challenge of infiltrating a crowd in her own skin. With the veil, she simply had to choose who she wanted to be, and she would look and sound exactly like that person. 

Tonight, she was Lana Becker, a pretty and introverted girl that worked in SHIELD’s accounting department and helped syphon funds to Hydra. The identity had actually been Hill’s suggestion, and it was a good one. The real Lana kept to herself and didn’t make a lot of friends in the workplace, so the odds of running into someone who would see through Natasha’s disguise were low. And tonight, the real Lana would be home with a mysterious case of food poisoning while Nat was free to attend the party in her place.

Natasha quietly informed her fellow Avengers when she was safely inside SHIELD’s headquarters using the nearly invisible communicator nestled in her left ear. Bruce replied that he appreciated the update, and she couldn't help but smile in response. Most communications personnel refrained from making such unnecessary and cute little comments. This would be an interesting night. 

While waiting for the rest of her team to indicate that they were in place, she made her way up the elevator to the rooftop where most of Hydra’s double agents would be enjoying themselves. Natasha couldn’t help but be simultaneously impressed and disappointed to see just how many people were in attendance. Of course, there were operatives that had flown in just for the occasion, and of course there were spouses and other civilian guests in attendance too. But it was still a wonder that so many of the “bad guys” had been working just under the SHIELD’s nose for as long as they had. 

But it wasn’t time to kick herself about it. It was time for the Black Widow to find a target. 

It was a task she had completed more times than she could count, and it was easy for Natasha to pick out a few potentials. It should be someone with a high enough position to be pretentious, but not someone so high up as to be untouchable. Someone good looking, with the confidence to approach a beautiful woman. Her temporarily blue eyes scanned the crowds as she let herself wander as if taking in the scenery. A few pairs of eyes trailed after her as she moved, and she made a mental note of who’s attention she had already grabbed. 

Finally, she honed in on one particular man standing near the bar. He had glanced in her direction and watched her for a bit longer than would be considered to be polite. The man was well groomed and well dressed, with a fairly expensive watch about his wrist. His left hand had the indent of a missing wedding ring. 

_Planning on having a little fun without your wife tonight, hm?_ Natasha thought to herself. Good. He would play right into her hands.

“Mark acquired,” she whispered to her teammates as she approached the bar. 

A grunt of acknowledgment came through the communicator. “I’m almost in position,” James said. “Take your time.”

She reached the bar and requested a glass of champagne. It only took a few seconds for a masculine voice to tell the bartender to “make that two”, and Natasha looked up to find her target smiling down at her. Too easy. He introduced himself with a warm smile as Blake, and held her hand gently while shaking it, as if he was worried he would break her. When he asked what she did at SHIELD and “Lana” responded that she was in accounting, Blake gave a hearty laugh and replied that she was too pretty to be doing math. 

Natasha laughed along with him, thoroughly enjoying the idea that this man would be dead before the night was over. 

—-

James laid against the rooftop, scanning the party through his scope. Natasha had yet to appear in his sights, but he could hear her progress through his communicator. It sounded like things were going well with her target. At the moment, she was giggling at something her mark said. Yeah, it was going exceedingly well. 

While Natasha and Blake flirted, and James simply waited, he kept mental tabs on their allies. Steve was in place on the ground in the rear of the building, waiting patiently for the door to open. Tony, Sam, and Rhodey were ready to take to the air as soon as the Insight ships did. Everything was going according to plan. 

All he had to do now was be patient. Waiting wasn’t something that was foreign to the Winter Soldier. He had memories of laying belly down in the snow for hours, ignoring the cold sleeping into his bones, eye to his scope, watching for his target. But now, he found himself wondering why a strange feeling of anxiety was gnawing at his stomach. Was it because this wasn’t a mission he was simply commanded to complete? Because its success was important to him and his friends? 

Natasha’s laughter echoed through his ear piece again, making his heart beat increase and his fingers tighten around his rifle. Listening to her flirt with this guy was becoming increasingly annoying. 

\---

Things grew friendlier between “Lana” and Blake, though Natasha herself was growing bored with their conversation. She felt she wasn’t contributing much more than a few oohs and ahhs as he spoke of his various accomplishments. Blake was the type of man who would rather speak about himself than ask about her. While the lack of personal questions made it that much easier for Natasha to keep her cover, and while she knew it was vital she keep her head in the game, Nat found herself desperately missing the fun, natural, back and forth flirting that she had with James. 

She made a point to touch the man’s arm when she finally got a word in edgewise to suggest they have another glass of champagne, but she internally recoiled at the feeling of his skin under hers. Seducing a mark might be easy, and it might be useful, but that didn’t mean she had to enjoy it. 

They were getting closer and closer to Insight’s launch, closer and closer to setting their plan in motion. Finally, Nat found an opportunity to suggest they move to the edge of the rooftop to get a better view, taking Blake’s hand and leading him out in the open. 

“Perfect,” James commented in her ear when the pair reached the railing, and Natasha found even the single word was a relief to hear 

Bruce’s voice came through next. “Alright, it’s showtime, guys.”

Unfortunately, that was also the moment when Blake decided to make his move. He stepped closer to her, brushing a lock of blond hair behind her back, letting his hand run over Natasha’s bare shoulder as he did. 

“I just can’t believe someone like you is in accounting,” he said, a devilish smile on his face. 

Inwardly, Natasha became extremely annoyed. Blake’s movement now positioned her body right between Jame’s shot and his target. She heard James swear quietly through her earpiece, and it took everything in her power not to cringe away from her mark’s touch. But she couldn’t quit now, and outwardly Lana smiled at the man. “You don’t think I can be pretty and smart?” she teased, refusing to let the charade drop. Her mission wasn’t over yet. 

“No,” Blake said, letting his eyes roam over her body. His arms encircled her waist and he pulled her closer, his body stiflingly warm against hers in the refreshing evening air. “I just think you should have someone to take care of you.”

While she wanted to snarl, Natasha let her voice come out as a purr instead. “And how would you take care of me?”

He nuzzled up against her ear, his voice husky as he began to recite all sorts of intimate promises of what would come later in the night. Natasha responded with appropriate gasps and little moans to encourage him. She twisted her body in his arms, turning to lean back into him. While Blake would certainly delight in the way she pressed herself against him, Natasha’s ulterior motive was to better position that man into the Winter Soldier’s sights. 

\---

James scowled as he watched the pair through his scope. Even though her face didn’t look like Natasha’s, even though her hair was blond instead of her stunning red, he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t her. He knew this other guy was running his hands all over the woman who had only just confessed her feelings for him. He knew that though he could only hear her voice through the communicator, the man’s mouth was pressed against her other ear saying god knows what. 

“Is listening to this conversation making anybody else uncomfortable?” Clint’s voice cut in. 

Steve was the first to respond. “That’s not exactly the word I would use.”

_Be thankful you’re not watching them, _James thought to himself.__

__Natasha was trying to move out of his shot, he could see by the way she was squirming. But her prey was relentless. James clenched his teeth as he watched the man finger the hem of her short dress, slipping his thumb under it to rub against her thigh. He fought to steady his breath, becoming more and more frustrated with himself. He shouldn’t feel such jealousy. She wasn’t his to be jealous about. And it wasn’t real, he told himself. She was just acting. Just acting really, really well._ _

__The guy must have said something particularly stimulating, because Natasha gave a moan and arched her back into him. She tilted her head to one side in a less than subtle invitation that the target greedily took. The man pressed his mouth to her neck, finally leaving his head fully and perfectly exposed to his sniper rifle._ _

__James let out a breath to steady himself, pausing when his lungs were almost empty, and took the shot._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, remember 4 chapters ago when I said there were only 4 or 5 chapters left? I guess I changed my mind. I'm planning on 3 after this. But hey, with me you never know.


	14. Ready

There was a beautiful silence for several seconds as Blake crumpled around her. Natasha stepped backward quickly, out of the puddle of blood and brains, bringing her hands to her mouth in what would look like shock to the people around her. 

“It’s about time,” she said, her hands hiding her words from any onlookers. 

People were noticing. Voices being raised. Someone was screaming. 

When James responded, it was in Russian, meant for just her own ears. _”Sorry, Tasha. I was having too much fun listening to those little sounds you were making.”_

She smiled to herself. _”In that case, maybe we’ll have to have a conversation later,”_ she replied with a thoughtful hum in her voice. 

Tony quickly interrupted them. “Something you two want to share with the class?”

“Nope,” James was quick to respond. 

“Then let’s _habla Ingles_ and get back to the mission.”

Natasha allowed herself one more smile of amusement before carefully setting the appropriate terror into her expression. _Time to play damsel in distress,_ she thought to herself as a squad of black clad security guards came rushing over. 

—-

It didn’t take James long to make his way downstairs and out of the building. He had been extremely tempted to remain on the rooftop and pick off a few of the STRIKE force that had come out into the open, but that wasn’t his mission. Besides, he would get his chance once he got inside Triskelion. 

He found Steve easily enough, his friend looking tense and ready, like a tightly coiled spring waiting to be unleashed. James felt the same. The Winter Soldier inside of him was restless, pacing like an animal in a cage, begging to be freed to fight against the people who had enslaved and tortured him for decades. 

All the two super soldiers needed word from Natasha to go ahead.

“Hey Buck,” Steve said quietly, his eyes turning to meet his. “You ready for this?”

James drew in a breath to steady himself, his metal hand curling into a fist. “Yeah. More than ready.”

His friend nodded, opened his mouth again, and paused. He reached up to tap his earpiece, muting his communicator, giving them privacy, then plunged ahead. “You remember that they want minimal casualties. And they want Pierce alive.”

It wasn’t really a question. It was a cautionary reminder. The Winter Soldier in his mind howled in protest. He wanted blood. James winced slightly. 

“Yeah, I remember,” he replied, avoiding his friend’s piercing gaze. 

Steve took a step toward him. “Will you be able to stay in control?”

Something inside of James snapped. He ripped out his own ear piece and turned to face his friend, his voice coming out as a snarl. “Steve, this isn’t some terrorist or random group of pirates. This is _Hydra._. These are the bastards who took my life from me. They took you and Natasha and everything else I ever loved. It’s not fair to ask me to go easy on them.”

Steve held up his hands in surrender. “I know that. Believe me, I know that better than anybody. But most of the people inside that building are techs, paper pushers. Not soldiers. I’m not going to participate in a slaughter.”

James stared at him, teeth clenched, barely controlled rage coursing through his veins. “And yet, they want to slaughter thousands of innocent people with Insight,” he snapped.

“They’ll get their justice,” Steve replied, his voice remaining even. “But remember, there’s more to Hydra than just the people in this building. And we need information to find the rest.”

His breath hissed through his teeth as James turned from his friend. That was true, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. 

“Bucky,” Steve pressed, taking a step closer. “We’ll stop them together. The right way. Trust me.”

James drew his lips into a tight line, eyes narrowing in thought. It was more important to trust Steve than to take his revenge, he told himself. And the Winter Soldier was a part of his identity, but the Soldier didn’t control him. He was Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, and the Soldier was a tool he could use to achieve his goals.

He adjusted his thinking, carefully. The Soldier was too dangerous to set free, but he followed orders perfectly. Tonight, the Soldier’s mission wasn’t to eliminate Hydra’s agents. It was to subdue and incapacitate them, to capture them for information. His mission was to follow Captain America, his skinny friend from Brooklyn, into battle.

He felt the Soldier within settle into a crouch. Ready, waiting, patient. The Winter Soldier never failed a mission. 

“Okay,” he finally said, shaking off the last bits of anger and turning back to face Steve. “I got it. I trust you.”

His friend’s eyes softened in relief, and Steve raised a hand to place it on James’ shoulder.

“‘Til the end of the line, pal,” he said, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. 

Bucky grinned back. 

—

The STRIKE team had ushered all the revelers inside, into a large conference room with huge windows. Pierce appeared on a display screen, speaking calming words of reassurance. The launch would go forward as planned. Everyone would be safe. Stay inside and watch through the windows.

While every eye was glued to the screen, Natasha found it more than easy to slip away from the crowd. Part two of her mission was to make her way to the security center and override the controls. No problem.

A flight of stairs and a few empty hallways later, she found herself outside the security room without difficulty or delay. After pausing a moment to hike up her dress and muss her hair a bit, she fixed a loose smile to her face and pushed the door open. 

Two uniformed guards snapped their heads up from their respective control panels, obviously startled by her sudden entrance. She also feigned surprise, and the three stared at each other as a heartbeat passed.

“Oh,” Natasha squeaked with a giggle, letting her words slur together. “This isn’t the bathroom.”

The men exchanged a glance of irritation and the one closest to her begrudgingly rose to his feet. “Miss, you can’t be in here,” he said, reaching one arm out to steady her as he approached.

The second his hand touched her shoulder, Natasha’s body snapped into action. She grabbed the man’s wrist, twisting his arm backward. He gave a cry of pain and surprise as she leaned to her left, bringing her knee to his chest, knocking him flat on his back. 

A stiletto to the temple made sure he stayed down. 

His companion didn’t wait to charge at her, and Natasha let him come. He was almost upon her when she ducked, lowering her center of gravity, slamming her shoulder into the man’s stomach. His own momentum worked against him, flipping him over her back, his forehead colliding with the corner of a desk on his way down.

Natasha glanced down at the immobile guards and shook her head. They had been almost disappointingly easy. 

She tore her blond wig off, tossing the hot, itchy thing to the floor with the unconscious men, followed quickly by her photostatic veil. It took only a few seconds for her to familiarize herself with the various screens and controls before finding what she needed. 

“Alright, gents,” the Black Widow cooed to her allies. “Doors are opening now.”

Clint, Steve, and James offered acknowledgment, and Bruce’s nervous voice told her “good job”. Nat smiled to herself.

Her part in the plan finished, she was supposed to head out, slip away and let the boys handle the rest. But Natasha had stowed a duffle bag of equipment in a nearby storage closet just yesterday, and she was dying to get out of her dress. 

Time to suit up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned for this chapter and the next to be one, but I’ve made everyone wait long enough.


	15. “Just like old times”

The first floor was relatively clear, save a receptionist whose expression went from one of quiet exhaustion to panicked confusion when Captain America and the Winter Soldier strode in. Steve barked a command for the woman to leave, which she followed without hesitation. They took the stairs to floor number two.

A quick search there revealed the cleaning crew tidying up rows of offices. They were also told to leave, and Steve gave Hawkeye a heads up about the exiting civilians through his earpiece. So far, so good.

The third floor was where the fun began. A few security guards in business suits had moved to intercept them, but they were hardly a match for Captain America’s shield and the Bucky’s arm. The guards were left unconscious or restrained, and the two soldiers moved on. 

Fourth floor. More security guards. Bucky was beginning to feel a little bored as they worked to dispatch them. 

The fifth and sixth floors were combined into a large open area with tall windows and marble staircases. In each corner of the room, huge planters of white concrete held green trees and colorful flowers. A fountain sat in the middle, happily bubbling away despite the dark missions of the night. But other than the sound of the water, the room was very quiet. Too quiet, as the saying goes. 

The two friends exchanged glances before wordlessly beginning to circle the room, Steve going right while Bucky went left. Bucky’s mind reeled, his eyes scanning the foyer for anything amiss. Natasha has taken over the security office, but surely Hydra knew of their presence by now. Someone had placed a radio call, sent a text, gave a warning to the others. It would be any second that-

A hail of bullets suddenly showered the room. Bucky held up his metal arm to shield his face while his eyes found the source. Black clad STRIKE team members emerged from above and were quickly making their way downstairs. Bucky ducked behind one of the large planters, avoiding the bullets and searching for an opening. 

“Incoming,” Steve’s voice whispered through his earpiece, giving him just enough warning. Bucky’s legs flexed, ready to spring just as Captain America’s shield whirled through the room. It easily took out two of their enemies before soaring towards him, and Bucky reached out with his metal hand to seize the shield in the air. 

_Just like playing frisbee,_ he thought to himself with a small grin before hurling it back to his friend. 

His shot only took out one soldier, as the STRIKE team was quickly taking cover. But that also meant the gunfire had calmed down, giving Bucky a chance to move. He strode forward, out of his cover and into the open. One of the soldiers took the opportunity to shoot at him again, but his aim was poor and it only served to show Bucky where he was hiding. He moved quickly, jumping up and into a bench, then a planter, then onto his target. A metal fist to the man’s head had him crumpled into a heap. 

Movement caught his eye, and Bucky spied another target darting away, trying to keep low behind the concrete wall. He moved in the opposite direction, surprising his enemy at a corner and seizing him by the throat. Bucky threw the man against a wall, and he fell into a motionless pile. 

The “click” a safety being removed caught his ear, and Bucky whirled to find two STRIKE team members just a few feet away, their weapons trained on his face. 

Well, this could be messy. His mind whirled, considering his options in milliseconds. He was faster than they were. He could duck to the right and cover himself with his arm, and that should get him out of the way before they fired-

A snap of electricity and the faint scent of burning flesh filled the air, and Bucky’s two enemies suddenly collapsed to the ground. But his blue eyes didn’t watch them fall. They stayed trained on the figure that was now standing behind the unconscious bodies. The figure if a woman wearing a smirk of satisfaction.

“If you needed help,” Natasha purred, adjusting the Widow’s Bite cuff at her wrist, “you could have just asked.”

She stepped over the fallen men, long, toned legs moving with perfect precision, and Bucky found himself laughing aloud. 

“Welcome to the party, Tasha,” he grinned as she approached, meeting her moss green eyes. 

“What? Nat, what are you doing?” Steve yelped from across the room. “You were supposed to exit after opening the doors!”

The girl shrugged, tossing her red hair over her shoulder. “And let you boys have all the fun? I don’t think so.” 

Bucky let his eyes roam over the woman’s black clad body for a guilty moment as she took a place at his side. “Just like old times?” he asked.

Natasha’s eyebrow quirked upward. “Do you remember?” 

He shook his head, but his smile remained. “Nah, but we can make new memories.”

She smiled at that too.

The big room was cleared even faster with three Avengers, and the trio was making their way to the seventh story when there was a crackle at their ear pieces. 

“Don’t know if you guys got the memo, but Insight just launched, and is gaining altitude faster than expected,” Stark’s voice cut in. “Any way you can buy us flyboys little time?”

Natasha was the first to respond, barking a new plan that they get straight to the control room. Steve agreed, and Bucky had no argument, so the little party took to the stairs. 

The control room, however, was ready for them. Several STRIKE force members took positions along the perimeter, guarding the many techs that were furiously typing away at their computers. A big screen cast a blue-green light on the room as it showed the figures of the great airships that rose into the night. 

Bucky frowned as he peeked through the tiny window in the door of the emergency stairwell where the trio crouched. “I don’t know the first thing about computers,” he grumbled. 

“I do. You can leave that to me if you two can keep the guns busy,” Tasha replied. 

It was as good a plan as any. She ducked behind the door, out of sight and out of potential gunfire as he and Steve burst through. 

Bucky didn’t have time to marvel at the efficiency of Captain America’s shield as it whirled around the room, taking out several of the armed soldiers before they even realized they were under attack. Bucky focused on the men closest to him, within reach of his silver arm. Crushing hands, snapping wrists, knocking heads, disarming and disabling man after man as he moved into the room.

When a fair number of the STRIKE members were out of commission, Natasha snuck into the room, crouched low and moving quickly. Most of the techs had taken cover beneath their desks, and a few made the stupid decision to reach out to stop her as she moved. The Black Widow made short work of them, hardly breaking her stride. 

She reached a console and began to tap out a string of commands, muttering something to her teammates through her earpiece that Bucky failed to hear. Regardless, everything seemed to be going according to plan until the main control room door swung open and Brock Rumlow and his flunkies entered. 

Rumlow opened fire immediately, showering the room in a hailstorm of lead. The bullets were wild and indiscriminate, uncaring whether they hit Avengers or Hydra techs. Bucky dove, grabbing a desk with his metal hand on the way down, flipping it on its side as a crude barricade. He heard Steve let out a cry to Natasha, who was close enough to crouch with him behind his shield. 

Bucky surveyed the room, his mind turning, trying to see a way out. Rumlow’s men were too many to try a straight escape; they would be easily gunned down on the way out. Steve might be able to take him out with his shield, but that would leave him and Natasha exposed for several seconds. Too long in a firefight. 

He ground his teeth and focused his blue eyes as the figures of his two dearest friends, huddled together across the room as bullets clattered around them. A fire ignited within him, and Bucky didn’t try to choke it down. The Winter Soldier inside of him was coiled and ready to spring. 

“Banner!” Bucky screamed into his earpiece over the roar of the guns. 

Banner’s meeker voice responded immediately, and Bucky didn’t take time to explain. “I need permission to use lethal force,” he snarled. 

“I don’t… um, let me check with Commander Hill,” the scientist stammered. 

Bucky’s fists clenched as a stray bullet whizzed off the top of his makeshift shelter. “Banner, now!”

The comm crackled and Banner came back, his voice sounding strained. “The Commander says yeah. I mean, lethal force is authorized.”

Bucky’s gaze shifted again to his friends, and he found Natasha staring directly at him, her expression unreadable. He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, composing himself, reaching inward to the man he so foolishly thought he no longer wanted to be. 

The Winter Soldier opened his clear blue eyes, immediately reaching for the guns on his back and belt. There were multiple targets, the most dangerous being the leader. Rumlow. 

His metal arm was the first over the upturned desk, sending a spray of bullets from his Skorpion at their assailants. He failed to critically hit any, but their reaction of surprise was enough to stop the storm of bullets that was raining on him and his comrades. The Soldier rose to his feet.

Skorpion in one hand, his beloved SIG-Sauer in the other, the Winter Soldier unleashed a barrage on his targets, this time finding many of his marks. Captain America was shouting something, scrambling to his feet to launch his shield into the fray. Good. 

There was a presence suddenly at his side as the Black Widow moved into his peripheral vision. She had a Glock in her small hand, picking off more of their scrambling enemies. Between the three of them, it wouldn’t take long to-

A bang sounded from behind him and the Soldier glanced over his shoulder to see STRIKE’s reinforcements barging in from the stairwell. More targets still remained in front of them, sandwiching them between two fronts.

His metal arm curled around the Black Widow’s waist, firmly grabbing her belt and twisting her around. _“Cover behind,”_ he said, his words coming out instinctively in Russian. _”Don’t let them gain any ground.” ___

__The girl did as he ordered, taking down most targets before they were able to find a place in the chaotic room. Captain America attacked both sides with shield and fists. The Winter Soldier’s guns handled the rest._ _

__But when the room cleared, they realized that Rumlow was not among the dead and wounded. He had slipped away. Unacceptable. The Soldier scowled and made his way to the open door, the thrill of adrenaline flooding his veins, Captain America jogging to catch up. The Black Widow shouted after them that she would keep working on the controls. Fine. Computers were her mission. His was blood._ _

__“Pierce will be on one of the top floors,” Captain America said at his side, his ocean blue eyes turned towards him. “We should keep heading up.”_ _

__The Soldier nodded his affirmative, moving toward the stairs once again. It made sense that Rumlow would retreat to his handler. But he didn’t miss the way the Captain’s eyes were following his movements. The American shouldn’t be watching his comrade. He should be looking out for targets. He should be continuing to move until he found them. He should-_ _

__“Buck!”_ _

__A firm hand on his right forearm halted the Soldier in his tracks. He turned toward the other Avenger in annoyance. What was this hesitation?_ _

__“Bucky,” Captain America said, his voice pleading. “Snap out of it.”_ _

__He blinked. But the other man continued._ _

__“We made it out of the control room. We can stop and think about this. No more casualties than necessary, remember?”_ _

__Something about that sounded familiar. The Soldier frowned again. His mission was… it wasn’t to kill. It was to take control of the tower and secure their enemies._ _

__Bucky drew in a sharp breath. His fingers flexed around the weapons he held. Oh god. Getting lost within himself had been all too easy._ _

__The guns went back to their places as quickly as he could manage, one in the holster on his belt, the other on the magnetic plate at his back. Bucky raised his eyes to meet his friend’s gaze again._ _

__“Okay,” he said, doing his best to keep the tremor out of his voice. “I got it.”_ _

__Steve held his eyes for two more seconds before giving him a curt nod. With an encouraging slap on the shoulder, the two friends were off again._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Others have excuses, I have my reasons why.“ I won’t bore you with the reasons why this chapter is SO LATE. The important part is that this continues, right? Sorry, friends.


	16. The End of the Line

A meeting room was nestled into one of the very highest floors of the Triskelion. Modern, minimalist, and impressive in its panoramic windows and sleek design, it was a popular place for the higher-ups of SHIELD to wow important guests. The room itself conveyed an air of cool confidence, a trait that Alexander Pierce embodied.

Steve and Bucky found the man easily enough; he wasn’t a coward who might run and hide. Instead, he stood prominently in the stately room, hands clasped behind his back, watching one of Insight’s airships slowly drift downward from the night sky through the big windows. 

A pane of plexiglass that doubled as something of a monitor stood between the two Avengers and their enemy. Flashes of data and maps dotted the otherwise transparent material, telling of the colossal failure of the Insight program as a whole. But the figures were less impressive than the orange glow of the flames erupting from the surface of three ships as they continued to fire on each other.

Bucky eyed the back of Pierce’s sandy colored head while Steve carefully tried the door that lead from their section of the room to the other. Locked. That wasn’t much of a surprise. Villains typically liked to take time to gloat before the end, be it their victory or demise, didn’t they? 

Steve dropped his hand from the door and lowered his shield. Even if they couldn’t get to Pierce yet, a quick call to Tasha in the computer room would have the door open. The man had nowhere to escape.

The end of the line.

“So many years of work, simply wasted. It’s a real let down,” Pierce said, his voice strangely cool and calm despite this colossal defeat.

Steve glanced at Bucky, his expression guarded. “Sorry to step on your moment.”

The man turned from the window, slowly, his mouth actually cracked into a humorless smile as he chuckled. “Well, you can’t win them all. But I can’t say I’m not disappointed.” 

He paused, locking eyes with Bucky. “Especially in you.”

There was something familiar about the man, and Bucky’s mind fought to get a handle on the exact memory. He had seen him before. He had heard that commanding voice. Had they crossed paths within Hydra at some point?

“You work was supposed to be a gift to the world,” Pierce continued, casually pacing the room. “You were supposed to bring order, bring down the enemies of peace and freedom.”

“This isn’t freedom,” Steve cut in, gesturing to the fiery scene outside. “This is fear.”

Bucky snarled. “Hydra used me against my will forward its own agenda. Don’t talk to me about freedom.”

“We all make sacrifices toward the common goal. Being soldiers yourselves, I would have expected you to understand that,” Pierce said with a shake of his head. “Our enemies are your enemies! Disorder. War. It’s just a matter of time before a dirty bomb goes off in Moscow or an EMP fries Chicago. Then what? Diplomacy? No. We’re all men of action.”

Pierce reached into the coat of his suit, withdrawing a small, crimson colored book. It was worn, used, tattered, like a beloved family Bible that had been handed down from one generation to the next. And the sight of it filled Bucky with instant terror. 

Memories came flooding back. Being strapped to a chair, awaiting orders from the man standing before him. Listening quietly, helplessly while he discussed plans that Bucky wanted no part of. Pierce wasn’t just another member of Hydra. He was one of the Winter Soldier’s handlers.

“Tonight was a setback,” the man continued, patting the book against his palm before spreading its creased pages open. “So we’ll have to go back to using our old tools. One of these days, maybe you’ll see the good you’re doing for Hydra. For the world.”

Bucky’s mouth felt dry. This couldn’t be happening. Not when they had won. Not when he was just getting his life back. He stepped forward and pressed his hands against the plexiglass. 

“Stop,” he said, his voice coming out more like a plea than a command. He knew that book was a weapon he couldn’t fight.

 _“Longing,”_ Pierce read aloud in Russian. _“Rusted.”_

“No!” Bucky screamed and pounded on the transparent wall before him. Steve shouted at him in confusion, but there wasn’t time to explain. He had to stop the man from reading that book. He had to stop the words before…

_“Seventeen.”_

Spiderwebs of cracks spread across the plexiglass under Bucky’s metal fist, but the wall was far from breaking. 

_“Daybreak.”_ Pierce look grimly smug, one hand holding the book, the other resting in his pocket. 

Finally giving up trying to speak to his friend and choosing a course of action, Steve moved quickly toward the door again. “Natasha, I need a door open,” he cried into his earpiece. “Natasha? I need it now!”

By the look in his eyes, Bucky could tell the woman wasn’t answering. 

_“Furnace.”_

Bucky’s mind was growing fuzzy, difficult to think. As if he had too much to drink and had a horrible case of the flu all at once. He leaned his forehead against the coolness of the wall. He had to… had to do something. Urgently. 

He panted. Something… His mind was swimming in fear. Despair. Anger. Hatred. Bile rose in the back of his throat. 

_“Nine.”_

His friend’s shield was banging against the door. It was loud. Too loud. The Soldier’s head ached. No more words. No more sounds. Please be quiet.

_“Benign.”_

His hands moved to cover his ears and he sank to his knees. He wanted to run. To cry. To tear someone apart. To dig a hole in the floor beneath him and bury himself. But his limbs felt exhausted, as if he had been treading water for days. His head felt like it was going to explode. He couldn’t remember where he was or why. He just needed it to stop. 

_“Homecoming.”_

“Please,” the Soldier moaned aloud, to himself and to the man speaking. “Not again.”

There was one more bang, this one louder, a different pitch than the sound of the shield. The world fell silent. 

The Soldier began to catch his breath. No more words were coming. His mind was swimming back to the surface, remembering himself. His headache dimmed, the world around him brightened.

Bucky blinked. 

He raised his head to see Pierce laying on the floor, a growing puddle of blood beneath his head. And the Black Widow standing over the body with a gun in her hand. 

Natasha’s green eyes moved from the corpse before her to meet his. “James?” she asked, her voice soft, gentle.

He nodded, pushing himself up onto his feet. He still felt weak, his heart pounding in his chest, but he was himself. “I’m here,” he reassured her.

“What was that?” Steve asked as Natasha moved across the room to a computer terminal. A few taps on the keyboard and the door unlocked with a click. 

Bucky moved into the rest of the room, trying to make sense of what had happened now that his brain was able to reason again. A ceiling tile was on the floor… Tasha must have crept through the ceiling, jumped down behind their enemy, and put a bullet in his head. She had saved them all.

She had saved him. 

He looked down at Pierce. The man’s hand was still clutching the little red book. “Its one of the ways they controlled me,” he replied to his friend. “And it’s over.”

“Not yet it ain’t,” Sam Wilson’s voice crackled in his earpiece. “Insight’s coming down, but one’s heading your way.”

The three Avengers’ eyes snapped toward the windows to see one of the ships was on a collision course with their building. 

“We won’t have time to get to the ground,” Steve said, his voice hoarse. 

“Don’t worry,” Maria Hill’s voice cut in. “I know a guy.”

Natasha and Bucky exchanges a look of confusion, but Steve was pointing at something else coming at them through the night sky. A black helicopter. 

The glass of the window was easier to shatter with Bucky’s metal fist than the barrier within the room had been, sending a spray of glass below them as the chopper approached. The night was dark, but they could still make out the man in the pilot’s seat inside. 

Nick Fury. 

Once the helicopter was close enough, the three heroes jumped. 

“Perfect timing, sir,” Steve breathed, rolling to his feet inside the aircraft and taking a seat next to his two friends. The three watched as Triskelion burned and crumbled as Fury flew them to safety. Rumlow, Pierce, and the book would be reduced to ashes along with everything else inside the building. 

James Buchanan Barnes slumped in his seat, sighing with relief for the first time in years. It was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pst! It’s not over.


	17. Resolve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s short but felt oh so sweet to finally write!

The mood was jovial when the heroes returned to Avengers Tower. Of course, they were all tired, both physically and mentally. And of course, the weight of lives lost, even for the sake of the greater good, sat heavy on everyone’s conscience. But the time for questioning and guilty feelings would come later. For now, they wanted to celebrate their victory. 

At least, that’s what Stark had decided upon their arrival. His pretty, if a little uptight in Bucky’s opinion, girlfriend met them with open arms and an open bottle of expensive looking champagne. James took a crystal glass of the stuff gingerly, thinking to himself that he would rather just have a cheap beer, but he muttered his thanks and put a grin on his face to mimic those of his comrades. A completed mission with the Avengers was much different than the stoic congratulations and sparse praise from Hydra that he was used to. 

Steve clapped him on the shoulder, cracking a joke about whether an arm or a shield of vibranium was more valuable, making the rest of the group laugh. Rhodes and Wilson seemed to be competitively debating which of them did a better job at bringing down their respective Insight ships. Barton counted off some ridiculously high number of hits with his arrows. And James remained quiet, taking it all in. It felt good to be a part of such a tightly woven group. The weight of battle was easier to bear when there were others to lean on. 

He sipped his champagne and suppressed a wince at the flavor as he glanced around the room. It was just then that James noticed that someone was missing. 

“Where’s Natasha?” he asked Steve, leaning in close and lowering his voice so only his friend could hear. 

Steve finished his drink with a single swallow. “In her room. She always likes to shower after a mission where she…” He trailed off, looking slightly uncomfortable as he decided on the right words. “Where she lets a guy put his hands on her.”

James clenched his teeth as a fire instantly ignited inside of him. He turned his eyes down to the glass in his hand, tuning out the rest of the group. He knew Natasha was a professional. He knew that she had been spying and seducing for decades. And the things she said and did with the guy that night had been relatively brief, minimal. But it had been hard for him to watch. Really hard. 

His mind wandered, replaying the events of the night over to himself. While Steve had been concerned when Tasha showed up to lend a hand in the fight, James had been delighted. Graceful, precise, and beautiful, she was the perfect counter to his cold brutality. They had practically danced through the battle, playing off each other’s strengths, moving together as one, and it had felt completely natural. And when he had wrapped his arm around her waist, felt the heat of her body next to his, saw the fire in her eyes as she looked up at him, saw the look of pride on her face after she finally pulled the trigger on Pierce… 

God, she was perfect. 

Something inside of him suddenly jumped into intense panic. She was perfect. She was perfect for him. And only a few days ago, he had rejected her. What a fucking mistake. 

He set down his glass on a nearby end table with more force than he meant to. Steve asked if he was okay, but James only managed to say he had to go as he headed out of the room. There wasn’t time to explain. He couldn’t let her go another minute believing he didn’t want her. 

James smashed the button to the elevator with his metal hand, sending spiderwebs of cracks along its glossy surface. He impatiently stared at the closed door in front of him for about two seconds before deciding the elevator was too fucking slow. Instead, he stormed towards the stairs, his long strides taking them two at a time as he made his way up. Mind whirling, moving as quickly as his body, James crafted exactly how and what he would say to Natasha. He would explain how he felt. He would tell her he was an idiot to not realize it before and beg for her forgiveness. He would tell her that he would take things at whatever pace she wanted, as long as he was at her side. He would tell her that he wanted her. No, that he needed her. 

His breath had quickened by the time he reached her door, more from his rising emotions than from the hike up the stairs. A metal fist came up to pound on the door three times and James sat back on his heels, his eyes raised toward the ceiling, rehearsing what he planned to say, ignoring the fears of her response that were looming in the back of his mind. He didn’t deserve another chance after breaking her heart, but everything inside of him prayed she would be merciful enough to give him one. 

“Look, Steve, I told you I’m fine,” Natasha’s voice drifted through the closed door. The metallic sound of a twisting door knob accompanied her words. “I’ll be right-”

Her voice broke off when she saw him standing there. Green eyes went wide, full lips parted, taking in a gasp of surprise as she realized he wasn’t the friend she expected to come to check on her. 

James also felt frozen in shock. She had clearly just gotten out of the shower, clad in nothing but a short, silk robe, her red hair damp and wavy from being towel dried, her skin clean and glowing. 

She was absolutely the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. All the words he was going to say, his entire hastily constructed speech evaporated from his mind. Nothing remained but her. 

James stepped forward, reaching his right hand out to grasp the nape of her neck as he pulled her close, crushing his mouth into hers.


	18. *Heat*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly sexy times. If this sort of thing makes you feel uncomfortable, you won’t miss anything vital to the plot if you skip it.

Hot water washed over Natasha’s skin, carrying away the sweat and grime from the hours before. She sighed to herself, concentrating on the feeling of the drops hitting her, replacing the echoes of Blake’s fingers that still remained on her body. Even after the intensity of battle, she still felt the way he had groped her. It turned her stomach, if she let herself linger on the memory, so instead she focused on her method of washing him away. Shampoo. Conditioner. Soap. More water. 

When she stepped out, Natasha felt a bit better. She dried with a soft towel and combed her hair mechanically while gazing at her hazy reflection in a foggy mirror. Her eyes were unfocused, her mind back in the battle, choosing a more pleasing memory to replay.

James has been magnificent that night. He was everything she remembered about the Winter Soldier, but with a softer, more human element from the Bucky Barnes side of him. He had shown humor and fear, concern for his friends, confidence in her. The feeling of his hand on her waist was one she never wanted to wash away. 

A harsh knock at the door stirred her from her thoughts and Nat rolled her eyes. Steve. He had seen her slipping away when they arrived at the tower and expressed his concern. He knew her well enough to be familiar with her ritual, and as always, she had assured him that she was alright, that she would rejoin them in a few moments. But the big lunk with the big heart apparently couldn’t let his friend wallow in her feelings without checking in.

She reached for the doorknob and affixed a reassuring smile to her face. But all of her self control shattered when she saw who actually stood on the other side of the door.

It was James, and he was looking… well, rather intimidating. His hands were curled into fists, his strong body drawn up to his full height. Full lips were parted, nostrils flared, and his cold blue eyes were focused on her, pupils blown wide, gaze unwavering. 

Natasha’s mind swam, searching for something to say, still processing the fact that he was standing in front of her. And that’s when he kissed her.

In her surprise Natasha hesitated, hardly believing he was truly pulling her close and pressing his mouth against hers. But her body knew how to react even if her mind was slow, and in a fraction of a second she was returning the kiss. 

It was deep. Demanding. Desperate. Her hands crawled up his front, fisting the shirt at his chest, holding him tightly as he held her. She didn’t bother to keep track of time as his mouth explored hers; it didn’t matter if seconds or minutes or even hours ticked by. All that mattered was his familiar taste, the way his fingers dug into her hair, his tongue dancing with hers.

When they parted, both panting, the two couldn’t do much more than stare at each other. His blue eyes met her green, wide with the shock at what had just happened. What he had just done. 

James began to stammer, breaking off eye contact, his hand slipping from the back of her neck. She started to panic inside. He was going to reason through this, she could see it already in his eyes. The question of why he came to her room didn’t matter in that moment. She couldn’t let him talk himself out of the spark he had just ignited between them.

“Tasha,” he began, his voice strained, “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you-“

“No,” Natasha hissed, cutting him off. She tugged at his shirt where she had been gripping him, her sudden motion surprising the bigger man enough for the him to let her pull him fully into her room. “No more talking.”

She closed the door and whirled on him, her hands moving back to caress his abdomen. “No more thinking.” 

With a gentle but insistent shove, she pushed him against the wall. He didn’t fight her. Instead, he watched her take the lead with a glint of wonder in his eyes. 

“No more waiting.”

One of her hands moved upward to caress his cheek, rough stubble from his five o’clock shadow against her soft palm, before tugging his face downward again. Natasha kissed him, slowly, deeply, savoring the feeling of his warm lips against hers. His fingers moved to her hips, gripping her firmly through the silk of her robe. 

Their passion began to rise again, their kisses more insistent. Natasha’s hands slipped under his shirt and she was pleased to feel his breath catch when her fingers grazed his skin. Her fingers moved upward, relishing the sharp angles and flat planes of his body, tracing his scars, taking in his heat. Upward she traveled until he was forced to lift his arms and she tugged his shirt over his head.

She didn’t take time to drink in the sight of his body the way she wanted too, as the loss of his contact had already become unbearable. Instead, Natasha pressed herself fully against him and found his lips again. Her hands continued their exploration over chest and arms. 

James flinched when she traced the ragged scar that separated flesh from metal at his left shoulder, and he broke their kiss to shy away. Natasha paused, considering. That reaction was new. Before, his arm had been a source of power, one of the reasons he was the best weapon in Hydra’s arsenal. Now, it was a memory of the way they had manipulated and used both his mind and body. It was a part of a hideous and painful past. 

She drew back a few inches, giving him more space, but tilted her head to catch his eyes. “James, when I said I wanted you,” she whispered, “when I said I loved you, I meant all of you.”

Natasha’s right hand rose, slowly, watching his face for any indication that she was going too far, too fast. His eyes were boring into hers, decades of pain and suffering hidden just behind that clear blue. But he didn’t flinch again as she placed her fingers gently on his metal elbow. She moved her hand upward, trailing lines in the cold vibranium. He couldn’t feel her the same way he could on his natural side, but she remembered that he could feel heat and pressure. His rate of breathing increased slightly as her fingers danced over the smooth metal, but his eyes didn’t show signs of panic. Instead, they were darkening again with arousal. 

When she reached his shoulder, Natasha broke their gaze to let her eyes flutter closed. She leaned in to press a gentle kiss against the metal. And that’s when James took control. 

He spun her around, flipping their positions, pressing her against the wall with the full force of his strong body. Natasha let out a whimper of surprise, but didn’t argue. His mouth was on hers again, demanding in his intensity, and she arched her back to increase the delicious friction between them. His lips traveled from her mouth, kissing along her jawline to her ear. James groaned her name and ground his hips against hers, drawing another whine from her throat. 

She was surprised again when his hands suddenly gripped her backside and lifted upwards. Natasha wrapped her legs around his waist in reflex, bringing the center of her heat against his pelvis, feeling his hardness beneath his clothes. He pinned her to the wall with his body as his mouth moved to suck on her neck. His intensity made her hazy mind wonder if he would leave marks. She hoped so. That was never a luxury they had before. 

She recognized his need for control, the importance of him choosing where and how and when he touched her, kissed her, whether to rush here or linger there. James was finally completely free from Hydra, able to exercise his desires any way he wanted. She could feel how each decision already made him bolder, more confident. Though she was usually one who liked to be on top, tonight, Natasha was happy to submit and let herself enjoy the ride. 

Her own fingers dug into his back, both for support and to pull him even closer. She felt slightly dizzy, smothered by his heat. James still smelled and tasted of the night’s battle, of sweat and blood and smoke, and it rubbed off on her body as they pressed into each other. It was as if she could feel his sins on her formerly clean skin, could share them with him, and she loved every second of it. 

Their writhing had loosened her robe, and it slid off one shoulder, exposing her breast. James’ eyes lit up at the erotic sight and he shifted, leaning one knee against the wall to rest her weight on it. His free hand moved upward, lightly grazing over her bare ribs to cup her breast. Natasha couldn’t help but moan, her back arching forward, pushing herself against his hand. 

The foreplay was fun and she relished the way he was exploring her body, but it had been years since they had been together. Now that they finally had contact, now that his skin was against hers, the flame that had been quietly smouldering inside of Natasha for years had roared to life. It was dizzying, overwhelming, smothering, yet it only highlighted how empty she felt without him. She needed more. More of him.

“Please, James,” she finally moaned. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

The Soldier complied, gritting his teeth and pushing them both off the wall. He turned, her legs still wrapped around his waist, carrying her to the bed. He lowered her to the mattress and Natasha quickly shifted onto her knees, shrugging the rest of her robe off. Her eyes watched him carefully as he quickly undid his belt, kicked off his boots, and pushed his pants to the floor. 

His body was everything she remembered, everything she had fantasized about in the years between their last coupling and now. Strong and scarred, he was a living weapon, capable of great violence and pain… and pleasure.

Natasha shuffled backward to make room as he crawled atop the bed before gently pushing him onto his back. James let her take the lead again, though that predatory glint remained in his blue eyes as he watched her move. She swung one slim leg over his waist, straddling his body while her hands explored his chest. Her nails softly raked down smooth skin, tracing muscles and scars, before coming to rest on his firm abdomen. Nat leaned against him for leverage as she raised her body up before slowly sinking down, sheathing him inside of her. 

He was big, and she was tight, and both of them let out moans of ecstasy at the feeling. She took a moment to let her body adjust, reveling in the feeling of completion that came along with being finally joined together. When she finally rocked against him, Natasha felt his sharp intake of breath. James’ hands moved downward from where they rested on her thighs to grip the sheets beneath him. Tighter, harder, knuckles turning white as she picked up a quicker rhythm. She thought she heard the thin cotton rip under his metal fingers. 

James’ real hand raised to caress her again, trailing fingertips over her stomach. He moved lower, shifting so the pad of his thumb covered the tiny bundle of nerves just above where they were joined. Lightning jolted through Natasha’s body at the feeling, and she let out a cry of surprise as she came, quickly, suddenly, strongly.

Her movement slowed as she recovered, panting, sweating, clinging to his arms to control her own trembling. But she had hardy come down from her high when the Soldier was in motion. He wasn’t finished with her yet. His strong form pushed upward, his left hand moving to cradle her back, cool metal against hot skin, as he turned them, flipping her onto her back. 

Natasha looked upward, meeting his ice blue eyes again as they both stilled. His lips were parted, his breath hot, his cheeks flushed with the same fire she still felt inside. She reached upward on impulse, brushing strands of dark hair from his eyes before cupping his cheek in her palm. Emotions flooded her heart with the realization that he was finally hers, and she, finally his. They didn’t belong to Hydra or the Red Room or even to the Avengers. They only belonged to each other. 

“I missed you,” Natasha whispered, tears suddenly stinging her eyes.

James’ mouth curled into a sweet smile before he lowered his lips to meet hers. He kissed her gently, softly, lovingly. “Sorry for the wait,” he replied. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” 

He shifted, pressing himself further into her, drawing a sigh of pleasure from her lungs. Natasha rolled her hips upward, meeting his movement. She curled a leg around the back of his thigh, opening herself to him even more while pulling him even closer.

“Then don’t stop,” she whispered, nuzzling against his neck. “Please, don’t ever stop.”


	19. Epilogue

Natasha stared at the wall, her eyes lazily tracing the thin line where sunlight crept through the crack between her curtains. The brightness of ecstasy faded into the fuzziness of satisfaction as she let out her breath in a long sigh. She felt her heartbeat slowing, her muscles relaxing, her breathing returning to normal. And she felt the man’s body pressed up against her doing the same.

They both lay on their sides, her back to his front, his body curled around hers, protective, possessive, warm save the metal hand that was resting on her hip. 

“It’s Wednesday, you know,” Natasha said, breaking their comfortable silence. 

She felt the stubble on James’ chin as he shifted to press a kiss against her shoulder. “So?”

She smiled. “So it’s been almost four days since the battle. We’re going to have to come out of this room eventually. Besides, I think you’re supposed to choose what we’re having for dinner tonight.” 

Natasha bit her lip to stifle a laugh when he groaned in protest. His nose nuzzled against the back of her neck as if he was trying to hide in her hair. “I kinda liked not having to share you with anyone.”

“I know. I feel the same.” Her left hand moved to cover his. “But we can only avoid real life for so long.” 

“Real life?” James repeated, a thoughtful hum in his voice. “So what are we supposed to do now?”

The question surprised her, and Nat turned her head to glance over her shoulder at him. “What do you mean?”

His blue eyes met hers over the bare skin of her shoulder and Natasha didn’t miss the mischievous glint of humor that flashed in them. 

“Well, I was always told that when I found the girl of my dreams, I should buy her a diamond ring,” he replied, brushing his lips against the back of her neck in feather light kisses between his words. “Shouldn’t I get you a house in the suburbs? One with a white picket fence?” 

This time, Natasha failed to suppress the laughter that rose in her throat. 

“What’s so funny?” James teased, his cool fingers delicately dancing over her ribs, his tickling eliciting more giggles as she squirmed against him. 

“How do you expect to pay for diamonds and houses on a crime fighter’s salary?” Nat returned, batting his teasing fingers away with her hand. 

She felt him shrug. “I’ll get a real job. Like…” he paused as if seriously considering his options, but Natasha felt his smile where his cheek rested against her neck. “I’ll do insurance sales or something.”

The thought of the Winter Soldier working a desk job in a suit and tie was enough to put her in another fit of laughter. 

“Sure,” James continued, his voice light with amusement, “I’ll work the nine to five, and you can plant some flowers in the garden and have dinner ready when I get home. Maybe we could even get a little dog. Something fluffy. What do you think?”

Natasha bit her lip again, doing her best to catch her breath. “I think I’m more of a cat person.”

James paused again, considering her words. “Me too, actually.” 

She pressed on, relaxing her body against his once again. “This isn’t 1940, James. I don’t want to be a housewife while you provide for me.” 

She felt him sigh, his warm breath making goosebumps rise on the back of her neck. “So what _do_ you want, Tasha?”

What indeed? She had spent so many years simply wanting him, and feeling that she’d never truly have him, that she hadn’t given much thought to their future beyond that. She ran her fingers up and down his metal forearm, enjoying his closeness. Enjoying getting another chance at memorizing every line and curve on his body. Enjoying getting to know the man underneath the soldier all over again.

“This,” Natasha finally said. “I just want this.”

He rumbled in agreement, shifting slightly to rest his cheek against her shoulder. “And the Avengers?” 

She was suddenly thankful he was positioned behind her and couldn’t see her smile drop. “I’ve got red in my ledger, James,” Natasha said softly, repeating the words that had kept her going long after leaving the Red Room. “I can’t quit until I’ve wiped it away.”

His fingers tightened on her hip, pulling her closer against him. “Yeah,” James replied, simply. “Me too.”

They fell into silence once again, and Natasha fought to keep the ghosts that haunted her mind at bay. The last thing she wanted was for her regrets to ruin their beautiful moment. At least the man nestled against her back understood what it was like to be so haunted. Perhaps he was the only one who did. 

“I was thinking,” James began again, slowly, “I’m not the only one Hydra enslaved and kept captive. I’d like to work on getting the others out.”

Natasha’s brow crinkled in thought. This was the first she’d heard of Hydra having other tools in their human arsenal, though she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. “Anyone I know?” 

He grunted. “Don’t think so. I think you were gone by the time the twins came along.”

She searched her thoughts and came up empty. “The twins?”

“I think you’ll like them,” James continued, then paused. “Well, you’ll like Wanda. Her brother is a little punk.” 

“Sounds like they’ll fit right in,” she replied, a smile returning to her lips. 

His thumb idly stroked her hip. “Then it’s settled. We emerge tonight and then get back to work. And I think I’ve decided what I want for dinner.”

“Oh?”

“Pizza. But none of that thick crust bullshit. Brooklyn style.” 

Natasha laughed again. “To be honest, I was afraid you were going to choose hot dogs, like Steve usually does.” 

“Ohhhh,” James cooed. “Now I’m questioning my decision.”

“Stick with pizza.” Nat began to push herself upward, but was stopped by the metal arm that snaked its way around her waist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” James asked, pulling her back against him and pressing another kiss to her shoulder.

Her brows knitted together in confusion. “I thought you said we were coming out?”

The man grunted. “I said ‘tonight’, doll. You’re still all mine for a few more hours.”

His lips continued to kiss the nape of her neck and his cool fingers drifted lower, causing Natasha to arch against him with a moan. 

_All his,_ Natasha repeated to herself. She really liked the sound of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope this was as fun for you all to read as it was for me to write. In fact, I’ve enjoyed myself so much (and gotten so much encouraging feedback) that I’ve decided to make this a series that follows “my” Bucky and Nat throughout the movies.


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